


between a rock and a hard place

by hujwernoo



Series: but we still care about each other, we were living for each other [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Season 2, Season 2 Rewrite, prepare yourself, this should be fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25953919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hujwernoo/pseuds/hujwernoo
Summary: Klaus and Allison have found each other - hooray! Unfortunately, trying to survive in the upper class in the sixties is abitdifficult for a black woman. They have their work cut out for them.
Series: but we still care about each other, we were living for each other [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862443
Comments: 719
Kudos: 958





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my dears! Did you miss me? Don't bother answering, of course you did.
> 
> So! This is the second installment of my newest series, if you didn't know that. I'm pretty sure there's going to be five fics in total. Currently working out the details.
> 
> As for this one in particular, I have it all written already (yes, I pulled my fabulous 'write one chapter a day' trick, you may applaud), and will be posting the chapters on a m/w/f schedule. Sorry for those who were hoping for every-two-days, but I need time for writing the next fic. And the one after that. And the one - you get the idea.
> 
> Trigger warnings at end. As always, prepare yourself for PAIN!
> 
> And now, with no further ado, I present! _Chapter one._

Allison wakes up, and it takes her exactly seven seconds to fully remember the events of yesterday. There’s something horribly fitting about that number. It always comes down to seven, one way or another.

Her throat is - it hurts, of course. It’s dry and hard to swallow, and she could use more painkillers, and she doubts she’ll be able to talk any more than she could yesterday. Maybe she won’t ever be able to talk again, and now that she actually has time to sit down and _process_ that she can feel the stirrings of panic inside of her.

Cautiously, Allison reaches up and brushes her fingers over the bandage on her throat. It should probably be changed and looked at, but for some reason Allison shies away from the thought. If - if she doesn’t _try_ to speak, and doesn’t pay it close attention, then it’s as if the injury never happened. As if she still _can_ speak, she’s just choosing not to right now.

Maybe it’s not the best coping mechanism. But Allison feels she’s justified in clutching onto it for a little while longer, considering the absolute shitshow her life has turned into over the last couple days.

There’s a faint snore from the other side of the bed, and Allison looks over at Klaus. He’s sprawled out like an octopus, face mashed into the pillow and drooling. Allison feels her lips twitch at the sight.

Then she sobers again as she remembers the revelations from last night. A year. Klaus has been here for an entire _year._ She can barely wrap her head around it. Less than twelve hours ago she was fighting for her life in that theater as Vanya ripped apart the world. And now Klaus is saying that was twelve _months_ ago, for him and Ben?

He’s obviously telling the truth, though. This entire place couldn’t be achieved without a lot of work, even if it’s grifter work. She’d be surprised about her brother’s success in that, but Klaus always has been good at bullshitting people who don’t actually know him. And in the sixties, where no one in the world has ever heard of the miraculous powers of the Umbrella Academy, he has such an edge it would be more surprising if he _couldn’t_ scam his way into wealthy pockets. Especially since he’s pretty obviously sober (another surprising development, but much more pleasant than the others).

So. Allison lies in bed and tries to come up with a list of things that have happened, and a list of things that need to happen going forward, because however competent Klaus has become in the past year she doubts he’s become very _organized._

Things that have happened in the last, oh, three days:

\- Vanya’s boyfriend turned out to be a psychotic stalker  
\- Allison revealed this to Vanya, along with an admittedly _horribly_ -timed realization of Dad’s orders to rumor her into being ‘ordinary’  
\- Vanya slit Allison’s throat in a rage  
\- Allison nearly died  
\- Luther locked Vanya in a cage  
\- Vanya snapped and started the apocalypse  
\- They had two very stressful firefights with Five’s former employers while the world was crumbling around them  
\- Five threw them all into the past ~~and she left Claire to die~~  
\- Allison was nearly attacked by a group of racists that are probably depressingly common in the sixties, now that she thinks about it  
\- Allison learned that Klaus and Ben have already been here for a year, and it may be many more before she’s reunited with the rest of her siblings, let alone her daughter

….It’s a lot to process.

But. She doesn’t need to process it all _now._ She just needs to keep it all straight in her head, to use as a blueprint for determining what problems need to be solved next. Klaus said he thought they were all dead, so she doubts he and Ben were making plans for their eventual reunion.

Things they need to do, both in the next few days and by the time everyone arrives….

Well, clearly Klaus has their lodgings sorted out. So that’s one worry checked off. It’s probably going to be a little awkward to explain Allison’s presence without sounding crazy or suspicious (or disturbing, as seen by last night’s assumptions at the salon), but - currently, Allison and Ben’s abilities are functionally down for the count. Klaus is the only superpowered person in the _world._ That’s such enormous leverage that Allison’s sudden appearance should hardly even merit a stumble.

Klaus can probably get her medical attention today as well, so Allison quickly makes a mental note and sets that aside.

She wants to see Ben again. Last night was - incredible, something she never thought she’d get to have again, and she wants to repeat it again and again. She wants to tell him all about her life, wants to hear what he thinks about everything that’s happened since his death, wants to just _talk with her brother._ He’s aged a bit, which is surprising but not unwelcome, because she’d always felt pain at the thought that he never got to grow up. But apparently Klaus’ powers work in mysterious ways, and she feels a warm glow of thankfulness that they can also allow her to see Ben again as well.

Speaking in longer terms….they’ll have to keep checking the alley, of course. How often, Allison doesn’t know, and she spares a moment of annoyance at Five even though she logically knows he must have been doing the best he could. Imminent death by moon meteor is a fairly stressful situation to deploy your most complex and untried power, after all, but after the week she’s had Allison is a little short on patience.

Allison will probably want to find something to do on her own, instead of sitting around all day in this fancy house. She’s used to the endless, frenetic bustle and energy of Hollywood, and going from that to interminable idleness doesn’t sound appealing. Of course, she can put that as low-priority, since it’s not like she’s going to want to do anything big until she’s _much_ more adjusted and settled in.

The family as a whole should probably try to get along better. Well, no ‘probably’ about it, they _definitely_ need to try. They managed to literally _end the world_ through sheer dysfunction alone. You really can’t get a bigger flag for therapy than that. So, considering it’s only Klaus, Ben, and Allison right now, they can try to focus on being better siblings to each other. Be nicer, more supportive. Foster communication.

And, of course, speaking of communication, Allison needs to….well. First she needs to learn how severe the damage to her throat is. Then she can take steps to address that. Either she starts carrying around a pad of paper while she works on physical therapy, or - or she starts learning sign language.

Thankfully, Allison is brought out of that particular train of thought by Klaus shifting on the bed. He moans slightly, before blinking his eyes open. He squints in the morning light, and then jolts a little as his eyes land on her.

Allison smiles at him, and lifts up a hand to wave.

Klaus stares for a moment, before his face floods with remembrance and he relaxes. “Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, you’re here. Really here. That’s so great.”

She can’t help but smile at that, letting out a little huff of laughter. She stretches, popping a few of her joints, and sits up.

Snagging the day planner from the nightstand, Allison starts writing down her list of goals. Klaus also gets out of bed after a couple more minutes. He never was much of a morning person.

Klaus putters around the room for a bit, before coming over to sit on the bed next to her. “What are you writing?” he asks, peering over her shoulder.

She shows him the list, divided into short-term and long-term goals. He blinks as he reads it, and screws up his face.

“Ugh,” he says. “Well, if you want to be _organized_ about it.”

Allison snorts. Then she hesitates briefly, before writing _Ben?_ in the corner.

“Hell if I know, probably stalking the poor maids,” Klaus says. “He’s turned into an _enormous_ gossip, Allison, it’s really quite terrible. Thank heavens I’m the only one who can hear him, he’d have ruined dozens of marriages and friendships and business deals otherwise. I mean, I’ve actually done that, but most of those were by accident! If Ben had his way privacy would be obsolete!”

That’s - a little startling to hear, when applied to the quiet boy of her memories, but after a moment Allison realizes it makes sense. If the only person Ben could interact with for over a decade was _Klaus,_ Ben must have developed at least a few ways of dealing with that. And honestly, Allison can’t say she _wouldn’t_ try to spy on people if she were invisible and intangible.

It’s a little saddening, though, that she can’t see him again right away. She nods reluctantly. Then she taps the item about medical attention.

“Oh,” Klaus says, looking at it. “Right. That’s a thing, that you need. Yes.”

She lifts an eyebrow.

Klaus grimaces, and runs a hand through his hair. It’s longer, almost at his shoulders, something she didn’t quite take in last night. Just more proof of the passage of time for him.

“It’s going to be tricky to explain you,” he hedges. “Uh. Being here. In my room.”

Allison sighs and nods. _Cover story?,_ she writes.

“....I don’t think they’d buy we’re siblings,” Klaus says slowly. “At least not without saying - you’re the illegitimate daughter of dad and the maid, or something. Which is technically true! Although it’s kind of….”

He gestures to her face, which she’s screwing up in disgust and annoyance.

“....Yeah,” Klaus says. “That. But, well, the _other_ obvious conclusion is….”

The one made in the salon last night. Right. Allison shudders a little just thinking about it.

Klaus has a point, though. No matter how much Klaus dazzles them, his patrons are going to want at least a token explanation for her presence. Allison knows how upper class people can be - until yesterday, she _was_ one. Curiosity is virulent, especially since they’re used to having problems and mysteries being solved with a shake of a credit card (are credit cards a thing yet?).

So their story needs to pass at least casual inspection. It _also_ needs to be capable of being explained by them with a straight face, though. And despite her less-than-sisterly feelings for _Luther,_ Allison can’t imagine claiming Klaus as her boyfriend without wanting to throw up. Would it be easiest? Yes. Would it be believable? Most likely, especially since they shared a bed last night. Would it be helpful?….Maybe, she doesn’t know enough of his situation here.

However. Can she stomach the idea that people will think that she and Klaus are sleeping together?

Nope. No, she cannot. Absolutely, categorically, _no._

So they need to claim a different relationship….and no matter how long Allison racks her brains for alternatives, she has to admit that Klaus’ first suggestion _would_ be the simplest one.

“We could say you’re my spiritually mandated companion?” Klaus frowns. “Can’t argue with fate. Oh, or maybe you’re a cursed - elf, or something. Hmm, let me think.”

Allison sighs, and takes up the day planner again. She flips to a new page and writes _Your first idea might work. Illegitimate half-sister._

Klaus blinks when she shows it to him. “Wait, really?”

 _It would require the least deception,_ Allison points out. _You know what they say about lying: it’s best when it’s not lying at all. We can keep track of this better than some elaborate story. Just be hazy on the exact details of our childhoods and it’ll work just fine._

“....Well,” Klaus says uncertainly. “If you’re sure.”

 _I can swallow my pride in order to keep a roof over our heads, Klaus,_ Allison writes.

“Alright, alright,” Klaus holds up his hands, flashing HELLO and GOODBYE at her. “I hear you. We’ll go with that.”

Allison nods firmly. She tears out the pages she’s already written on and rips them up into tiny pieces, because leaving _that_ around is just asking for some maid to come along and find evidence of their scam and take it straight to whoever owns this house. Allison has lived in Hollywood for nearly half her life, she knows a blatant opportunity for a later dramatic downfall when it’s in front of her.

Klaus looks at her a little oddly when she puts the scraps in the attached bathroom’s sink and runs water until they’re a soggy mess, but sue her, getting her throat slit by her own sister has made her a bit paranoid.

The illegible lump of wet paper has just been thrown in the trash when Klaus makes a sound in his throat and looks to the wall. “Oh, look who finally decided to show up!”

Ben. It has to be. Allison finds herself straightening, looking towards where Klaus is. She can’t see him, of course, but she remembers what last night was like and imagines him standing there, tall and strong and - not alive, of course, but at least _present._

Klaus is explaining their plan to Ben, and keeps reacting to unheard commentary. “Of course it’s going to work, don’t you trust me? Don’t answer that. - I said don’t answer! Allison, Ben is bullying me!”

Allison smiles, more to herself than anything, and shakes her head. This - this is what she was thinking of, earlier. It’s still only the first step, but they’re all bonding right now. Getting along. There’s certainly going to be hurdles coming up that are more daunting than coming up with a cover story for how they know each other, but they managed this one just fine, and it’s always best to start small. In hindsight, that was a big problem of what they (she) did wrong during the past week - trying to jump-start connections that have long been broken and dormant, or just never there in the first place. Instead, she should have let it develop naturally, slowly.

She’s never been a patient woman. But for her family, she can try.

There’s a _click_ from the door.

Klaus breaks off talking and looks over, stiffening. Allison just has time to straighten up herself before she hears a voice saying, “Klaus, darling? I do hope you’re dressed, Mr. Anders is arriving within the hour.”

The woman who enters the room is the kind of woman Allison has seen a fair amount (not as much as the vapid, Botox-guzzling socialites or the jealous wannabe/has-been starlets, though). She’s clearly of the ‘elegant and refined lady’ category, although an older example. Allison finds herself impressed with the casual air of sophistication that surrounds the woman like a cloak. Allison hopes she herself can wear the same when she’s the age of this woman.

It’s then that the woman spots her, coming to a halt just inside the door. She stands, frozen, hand still on the doorknob, staring at Allison in utter shock.

Allison smiles, a little awkwardly, and bobs a quick curtsey.

“Daphne,” Klaus says, stepping forward and smiling. “Excellent, I was just about to find you.”

“I would certainly hope so,” Daphne says slowly, “Because you had better have a damn good explanation for why there’s a _Negro_ in here, Klaus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: racial slur, aftereffects of trauma and grief, brief references to incest


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: period-typical racism, racist language, vague mention of past non-con

Klaus likes Daphne, okay?

It’s not surprising. Klaus likes an inadvisably large number of people, which Ben often bemoans. Klaus is willing to forgive a _lot_ if someone gives him drugs, or a place to stay, or even just food.

Which isn’t to say he’s a saint. Klaus only actually _hates_ one specific person (compared to all his reasons for hating Dad, hating anyone else just feels….petty), but he dislikes plenty of people. People who have kicked him when he’s down, people who don’t see him or other homeless junkies as people, people who specifically (and literally) get off on hurting him when he says no - people who, in short, are assholes of the highest degree. But it takes actual work to be that much of an asshole, so Klaus mostly likes people.

He didn’t need to stretch himself to like Daphne. After all, she was nothing but kind to him from the word go, even when he was just some random homeless dude thrown at her feet. Sure, she was interested in sleeping with him, but most people are. She even took his delicate refusals gracefully, especially when he made it up to her by giving her the prestige of being the person who ‘discovered’ such a powerful mystic. It’s the least he can do to repay her for taking him in and giving him a life of wealth and comfort _without_ the unceasing trauma and abuse. Who knew you could have both?

Anyways. The point is, Daphne has been good to him. Above and beyond what (almost) anyone else has ever done for him, in fact. So he likes her a whole heck of a lot, and it would have to be a _hell_ of a thing to get him to stop.

Or, as it turns out, just a couple of choice words.

“You can’t be serious, Klaus,” Daphne says incredulously. “I’m not going to put up a _Negro_ in my house!”

Klaus manages to hide - _most_ of his reaction to the word. Daphne, he’s come to realize over the past couple minutes, has certain views on black people. Namely, ones that would garner horrified reactions from a 2019 audience, but are just barely worse than normal for the current time period.

He should have thought of that. He should have, but he didn’t. Daphne isn’t geriatric, but she’s definitely old enough to have grown up in a world entirely alien to Klaus, even after a year of living in the sixties. In Daphne’s world, black people aren’t just different from white people, they’re _inferior._ She’s stated several times what she thinks of Allison’s presence here, and hasn’t let up at all since Klaus pulled her into another room so Allison at least doesn’t have to hear it.

“Daphne, she’s my _sister,_ ” Klaus says - begs, really. He can feel the ground crumbling beneath his feet, the foundation he thought steady enough to weather this revelation proving itself to be unexpectedly and completely inadequate. “I know I never mentioned her before -”

“I don’t blame you for _that,_ Klaus,” Daphne sniffs. “We can’t help what our parents do. _I_ certainly wouldn’t mention it if I were in your place. What I’m baffled by is your decision to claim it as important. So your father had a dalliance with one of them, that doesn’t give the byproduct the right to come along and intrude on your life. Or your willingness to play along!”

“Is she actually for real,” Ben says, staring at Daphne from the corner.

Klaus can’t react to Ben beyond a brief glance, because all of his attention is currently on finding some way to navigate this previously completely unknown side of his benefactor.

It's incredible, really, how you can know someone for over a year and then learn you never really knew them at all.

“She’s _hurt,_ Daph,” Klaus says, hoping the nickname will put Daphne in a sentimental mood. It probably won’t be enough to salvage their previous friendship, but honestly Klaus isn’t counting that as much of a detraction anymore. Prejudice has always been just a matter of course when it comes to him, but directed at his siblings?

He’s never once pretended to like anyone who crosses that line. And Daphne is just about _tap-dancing_ on it.

She also looks unimpressed. “And?”

“And - I want to help her! She’s my sister and I _care_ about her!”

“I don’t like her anymore,” Ben says flatly, staring levelly at Daphne. He has a look on his face that’s usually directed at anyone who throws slurs at Klaus. That look is pretty familiar.

Daphne sighs delicately and scrunches up her face. She briefly places a hand on Klaus’ arm, and for the first time it feels - patronizing. Stifling. _Wrong._ “Klaus, dear,” she says gently. “Don’t get pulled into this. You’re _very_ kind for wanting to help her, but if you give her an inch, she’s going to take a mile. That’s what Negros do. Parasites, the lot of them. She’s going to use the excuse of shared blood to bleed you dry, and I’ll not allow that to happen, not under my roof. She isn’t staying. You’ll thank me later.”

It’s interesting, Klaus notes absently. Usually, he has to be in the middle of an incredible high or with an incredibly rough partner to reach this level of dissociation. He feels thoroughly detached from his body, and only distantly notes the strong taste of copper flooding his mouth.

Ben might as well be a statue at the moment. Not the one in the Academy courtyard, though. That one looked far, far less furious.

It’s pretty lucky that Klaus is dissociating and can’t figure out how to unlock his muscles, honestly. Punching Daphne in the face probably wouldn’t be the best option here.

After about a minute, Klaus _somehow_ manages to figure out how to talk again. Daphne just keeps looking at him, like she’s waiting for him to realize the sense in her words.

“If she can’t stay, then I can’t either,” Klaus says.

Pure, unmitigated _shock_ floods Daphne’s face. She stares at Klaus for a moment, frozen.

“Klaus,” she says. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’ve honestly never been more serious in my life,” Klaus says.

_“Klaus,”_ Daphne says, stronger now. “Listen to what you’re saying.”

“I am,” Klaus lifts up the corners of his mouth. “I don’t think you are, though.”

Daphne opens her mouth, before closing it. She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Dear,” she says, in the tone of someone trying to keep their patience as they reign in an unruly toddler, “You are not a stupid man. You are, in fact, a very great and _powerful_ man. Which is why I’m rather confused as to why you’re acting this way over a Negro, of all things. Does she have something on you? Some sort of sordid family secret? Because if so, that can be dealt with.” She reaches out and puts her hand on his arm.

For the first time, he moves it away.

“I guess it’s _sort of_ a sordid secret?” Klaus says lightly. “By your standards. The secret is that _I care about her._ And I won’t let you kick her out without kicking me out too.” He gives her a thin-lipped smile. “It’s your choice, Daph.”

Daphne stares at him for several minutes, calculation whirring behind her eyes. He lets her process, and silently prays that his talents will outweigh her racism. _Surely_ she has to see reason? It’s not like genuine paranormal powers can just fall out of the woodwork, and Daphne has been in high society her whole life. She knows the necessity of compromise and negotiation.

“....Fine,” Daphne says cooly, her eyes not wavering from his. “She can stay. For now.”

Klaus smiles tightly at her. “Thank you. You’re as kind as ever.”

“Too kind,” Daphne says flatly, before sweeping out of the room.

“We should probably find somewhere else to stay sooner than later,” Ben remarks, staring after her. “She’s totally going to kick you out within the week.”

“Yeah.” He knows the look. “On it. But right now we can go tell Allison everything’s alright now.”

“For now,” Ben says, and Klaus doesn’t argue, because, well. He’s right.

Fuck. He’s totally getting written out of her will, isn’t he?

**********

For once, Ben doesn’t complain as he lifts Klaus over his head. Klaus wishes he could appreciate that, because he’s been trying to get Ben to quit the commentary ever since they started these demonstrations.

Now, however, Ben says nothing, and it’s pretty damn unnerving. Klaus keeps up his showman’s smile, of course, because the last thing they need is to disappoint their adoring public. Daphne is off to the side, wearing an uncharacteristically neutral expression.

Everyone else looks normal, at least, impressed looks all around (although he tries to ignore how they’re less impressed than they were a year ago). Several of the guests step forward and swipe their hands through the space around Klaus, confirming to themselves there aren’t any wires. He and Ben bear it patiently, like every time, although Klaus knows Ben hates it whenever their hands pass through him.

It’s only a couple minutes later when Ben sets him down again. Klaus lands lightly on his feet, and smiles widely at the crowd. They’re sticking to just the simpler tricks tonight - best to hold the more exotic ones in reserve as a carrot.

After all, they’re going to need one tonight.

Allison is upstairs. She pretty obviously didn’t particularly like staying in his room the whole day, or the fact that she has to remain there until they secure friendlier lodgings, but she hasn’t complained. She knows how precarious things are right now, and Klaus is _kicking_ himself for not building up his own funds when he had the chance. He’s been a professional moocher for the entirety of his adult life, and that’s a hard mindset to shake, but he’s had millionaires eating out of his hand for _over a year now_ and never thought to ask for any funds beyond the immediate? He’s a fucking _idiot._

_Always take as much as you can get, because you’ll never know when fortune’s going to dry up and fuck you over._

A principle he’s lived his entire life by, but then he completely forgot it upon coming to the sixties. Sure, yeah, he thought everyone he ever loved was dead. Some would say that’s a reasonable excuse. Klaus doesn’t particularly, though, because now that he knows otherwise he’s _completely_ unprepared to handle the consequences.

Which is another principle he’s lived by, just by being himself, but right now it’s unacceptable. Not when Allison is on the line. Fuck, Klaus has never had this much responsibility in his goddamned life - he didn’t even have this much responsibility in _Vietnam,_ for crying out loud!

Klaus schmoozes around the room as he tries to keep himself from freaking out for the fifth time today. It’s a hell of a motivator, knowing that it depends on him to make sure that his _black, disabled sister_ doesn’t end up _homeless_ in the _sixties._ Klaus would already hate the idea of Allison experiencing the harsh life of homelessness (in some alternate universe where she couldn’t just rumor her way out, which _he’s actually living in now_ ), but all those other factors leave him straight-up _terrified._

So. He’s going to keep that from happening. Whatever it takes.

“Oh, come now,” Mrs. Waters says, lifting her glass to her lips and taking a sip, never breaking eye contact with him. “You did much more at the party last month. It was quite memorable.”

Klaus shrugs artfully. “I did,” he allows. “But there _are_ limits to my powers, I’m afraid. They require the right atmosphere to be used _often._ ”

“This isn’t the right atmosphere?” Mr. Waters interjects. He isn’t as much of a fan of supernatural phenomena as his wife, but the couple has been to enough of Daphne’s parties that Klaus feels reasonably sure that Mr. Waters _is_ interested in _Klaus._ It’s subtle - some of the subtlest tells Klaus has ever seen, in fact. But Klaus has _impeccable_ gaydar, and the sixties are so repressive Klaus is honestly 100% certain the only reason he hasn’t been carted off to a lobotomy is his connections. So Mr. Waters? Totally into him.

Klaus focuses on Mrs. Waters, though, because at least she isn’t older than his father.

“This is nice,” Klaus says, glancing around the room. “But there are a lot of factors that I have to draw on to fuel my powers, and through no fault of her own Daphne just can’t provide _all_ of them.”

“ _Really_ now,” Mrs. Waters says, her eyes sharpening. “If I might ask, where _would_ you be able to obtain all of your necessary components?”

It takes Klaus a second to translate Fancy Talk, but then he shrugs again. “Oh, I don’t know….” he says vaguely. “Someplace….out of the city, maybe.”

“Is that so,” Mrs. Waters says. “You know, we’re currently spending the summer at one of our homes outside the city. It’s quite lovely. I’ve personally made sure that the entire house and grounds are in perfect spiritual balance.”

“Oh, that _does_ sound lovely,” Klaus says earnestly, doing his best not to burst out into giggles. Ben, the lucky asshole, doesn’t bother holding back his snickering. 

“Hmm,” Mr. Waters says, glancing up from his own glass. “You know, Klaus, you would be entirely welcome to stay at our place for a time, if it’s to your liking.”

“Oh, _really?_ ” Klaus says, doing his best to look thrilled and grateful. Then he stops. “Oh, but - I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Mrs. Waters says firmly. “An accomplished magi such as yourself shouldn’t have to be troubled by material concerns. We’d be _happy_ to host you for as long as you’d like.”

Alright, how to spin this, he has to get it right….

“....I’m honored,” Klaus says slowly. “But I’m also worried you don’t know what you’re offering. You see - I am indeed deeply concerned with spiritual balance. That’s, uh, very important to keeping my powers in top shape. But in order to keep that balance, the strength of my spiritual concerns must be _balanced_ by the, uh, depth of my concerns here on Earth.”

“What do you mean by that?” Mrs. Waters says, hanging onto his every word. Mr. Waters looks a little interested as well.

“What _do_ you mean by that?” Ben wonders.

“It means,” Klaus says, maybe a bit pointedly, “That I have to have an anchor here in the physical realm, in order to - be capable of interacting with the mundane world. A bridge has to be anchored on both sides, you see?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Mrs. Waters says, nodding intently.

_Oh thank fuck,_ Klaus thinks. Aloud, he says, “Right. So. But as a, uh, cost of the strength of my powers, I can’t _choose_ what that anchor is. So you would have to deal with that anchor, as well as me, inside your home. Daphne has been perfectly accepting, of course, but not everyone would be as gracious as her….”

There’s a flash of spite in both the couple’s eyes, and Ben lets out a low whistle. “You’ve got them eating right out of your hand,” he says, sounding reluctantly impressed.

At the same time, Mr. Waters gruffly says, “Klaus, don’t worry about that. Of course you can bring this anchor with you. Daphne’s hospitality is excellent, of course, but that’s just commonplace down here. We’ll treat you just as well.”

“Better,” Mrs. Waters says. “My hosting is the talk of the town. I promise you, you’re perfectly welcome, and so is _any_ spiritual tool you may need.”

Klaus smiles. “You’re too kind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably ridiculously obvious that I absolutely love grifter!Klaus, but I don't care. I love it so much.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: say it with me now: _fucking racism._

In the past sixteen months, Ben has grown increasingly annoyed by Klaus’ antics. Not the grifting - that’s par for the course, and honestly actually the smartest thing he could have done after ending up in a strange place in a strange time. Ben fully supports the sobriety as well, because he’s been trying to push Klaus towards that for well over a decade and seeing Klaus _finally_ do it and _stick_ with it is….it might just be the best feeling Ben has felt in his entire goddamned existence. Something he never, ever thought he'd get to see, and he's so fucking happy he was wrong.

The shows, though? He could do without.

It’s always ‘Lift me up, Ben’ or ‘pick that up, Ben’ or ‘do this, Ben’ or ‘do that, Ben,’ and Ben is _pretty damn tired_ of it all. He makes up about seventy percent of Klaus’ displays of power, and it’s demeaning and irritating and just plain _annoying._

Does he recognize the necessity of staying in the good graces of Dallas’ upper crust? Yeah, of course. It’s a fucking gift not to have to worry that Klaus will freeze to death in an alley or get beaten to death by someone offended by his existence. But Ben would really rather that Klaus manage it on his own merits, instead of roping Ben into everything. Press-gang some other ghost to do his busy-work, god.

He knows why Klaus doesn’t do that, of course. To an extent, he even sympathizes. In order to keep all the other ghosts away, Klaus has to - _squish_ his power, almost. He’s bad at explaining it. But the gist of it, as Ben understands, is that so long as Klaus can shove all his power down to the absolute lowest levels possible, he isn’t a beacon for undead. Ben can feel it himself - before, whenever Klaus got anywhere even close to sober, Ben felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Now, though, Klaus feels completely uninteresting, metaphysically speaking. So long as Klaus doesn’t acknowledge any of the ghosts that wander around the world, they don’t pay him any attention at all. Less than they do other living people, in fact.

Apparently it was uncomfortable keeping his power tamped down like that at first, but Klaus didn’t seem to mind, and he got used to it. After a lot of practice, of course. It took some time before he was even capable of feeding Ben enough power to interact with the physical world without lighting up that beacon again, and there were several times when Ben had to stop his terrified brother from falling off the wagon.

So Klaus is understandably not all that keen on interacting with other ghosts, now that he’s _finally_ rid of them and drugs both.

Doesn’t mean Ben likes the fact that that makes _him_ responsible for selling the whole ‘magi-guru’ thing.

Now, though, he’s going to have to suck it up. Because Allison is here, and she’s in an _intensely_ vulnerable situation. A mute black woman with no documentation or resources or work skills she’d be allowed to use, years before the Civil Rights Act is passed? Ben wouldn’t be surprised if she got murdered (or _worse_ ) after a week on her own. Especially since - well, to put it nicely, her life hasn't exactly prepared her for the harsh realities of being homeless.

Which means he and Klaus have to do their best to provide for her. She’s probably going to chafe at that, if he knows Allison, but they can deal with that _after_ they aren’t in danger of being kicked out onto the streets.

Right now, Allison is trying to find something to do. Ben deeply sympathizes with that. You don’t truly know boredom until you find yourself unable to interact with anyone except one person who’s busy doing other things most of the time. Although at least Allison can sleep, and interact with the physical world.

“You could probably ask Klaus to get you a few more books,” Ben suggests, as he watches Allison flomp onto the bed with an enormous sigh.

They’re moving to the Waters’ today, though, so he’ll have to get the books from their library. Ben hopes they have a good selection. And that it’s not just about chakra and tobacco.

Although at this point, Ben might just take it. Allison too.

“Look,” Ben says reasonably, even though he’s well aware that Allison can’t hear him. “It’s only going to be a couple more hours until we leave. And these guys….didn’t exactly _like_ the idea of putting you up, but they’re a _lot_ friendlier than Daphne. I really doubt you’ll have to stay cooped up in your room while we’re there. So just hold on a bit longer, alright?”

She just sighs again. Which is understandable, since she doesn’t know he’s here.

But she knows he _exists,_ Ben reminds himself again, and like always he feels an electric thrill go through him at the thought. She knows he’s around here _somewhere,_ if not the exact location right now, and she talks to him and Klaus ensures that he can talk _back,_ and it’s just as amazing as he imagined it. They’ve been setting aside an hour or so before bed for Klaus to conjure Ben, and so far it’s been going great. Ben has to admit that he missed his siblings an unequal amount, and Allison was on the lighter side - but he still _missed_ her, so fucking much, and now they’re finding common ground he never thought they’d have before. Speaking with her is pretty much the highlight of his afterlife so far.

_Click._

Ben blinks, and looks over to the door in unison with Allison. Huh, he thought Klaus wouldn’t be back until later -

And then Daphne comes into the room.

He stiffens. As does Allison, of course. Daphne looks severe, not a hint of warmth in her eyes as she looks at Allison. Ben feels that itch of protective instinct, because people who have looked at _Klaus_ like that in the past generally haven’t followed it up with kindness.

Ben eyes Daphne and debates with himself whether he should go fetch Klaus. The problem is that Klaus is at the Waters’ house right now, checking the rooms they’ll all be moving into and bulshitting the couple that all their spiritual energies are aligned or whatever, and he wouldn’t make it back here for another thirty minutes. Whatever Daphne is planning on doing will certainly take less than that.

It….isn’t _likely_ she’s here to do violence, at least?

“Hello,” Daphne says, marginally warmer than the Arctic Circle. “Allison, was it?”

Allison sits up on the bed, and nods slowly. Her eyes are wary, which is good. Now isn’t the time for the classic Hargreeves Obliviousness to rear its head. Daphne can ruin Allison with the flick of a finger, and everyone here knows it.

“Mm,” Daphne’s eyes sweep Allison up and down, and clearly find her wanting. But then, she’d probably find Allison wanting even back in 2019 at the height of her fame and wealth. “I suppose you think you’ve found a good thing here, leeching off your brother.”

An expression flickers across Allison’s face too fast to catch, but Ben knows what she’s thinking. Klaus never actually asked her for money before, but she always made sure to pay for his rehab, and sometimes even donated to a shelter so they wouldn’t ban him after a particularly disruptive night. The tabloids discovered one of the payments once and had a field day.

And now - well, this whole ‘Klaus in high society’ thing was already bizarre to begin with. This just puts the cherry on the top.

Daphne seems to take the flicker as agreement, because her eyes go frostier. “Yes, I thought so. I’m here to tell you that it won’t work. Not for long, at least. Klaus is - well, he’s a sweet boy, but he’s also intelligent. He’s going to come to his senses about you, likely sooner than later. And in the meantime, I, at least, refuse to be a part of your scam.”

Allison looks at Daphne, her lips compressed. Ben knows she wants to throw verbal barbs right back at Daphne, and is frustrated because she can’t.

“She wouldn’t listen anyways, Allison,” Ben offers, feeling tired. “Nothing you could say would change her mind.”

The two women stare each other down for a minute. There isn’t a single sound in the room.

Then Daphne seems to come to an internal decision, because she straightens and loosely clasps her hands in front of her.

“I removed Klaus from my will last night,” she says.

Allison blinks. So does Ben.

“...Shit,” Ben says. Because. Well. That’s pretty damn big. Ben was pleased when Daphne wrote Klaus into her will, because it meant there was a safety net if the awe of high society ever faded. And it was a good safety net. Especially since….

“I’m ill, you see,” Daphne says, not a flicker of emotion on her face. “The doctors say I might have a year, if I’m lucky. I don’t think I’m going to be lucky.”

….Yeah. That.

It’s not something that Ben has told Klaus. He only found out by accident a couple weeks ago, in fact. It’s cancer of some kind, a particularly aggressive type. Ben is pretty sure she wasn’t even diagnosed when she first met Klaus.

He debated with himself for a long time before he decided not to tell Klaus, because despite how much his brother calls him a gossipmonger he does know how to keep his mouth shut on important topics. And even though all of his previous affection for Daphne has been burned away, it’s still her decision to reveal that she’s dying.

Why she decided to tell _Allison,_ though, he has no idea.

“Oh save your pity,” Daphne says, in response to the minute softening of Allison’s features. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel _sorry_ for me. That’s just insulting.”

Allison’s expression freezes, then drops back into wary neutrality. She tilts her head a little.

Daphne presses her lips together. “My husband died in the war,” she says levelly. “I never had children. I have no remaining family. Which is - I’ve lived a good life. I have no regrets. But over the past fifteen months, I’ve come to care for Klaus. He’s brought me great joy in my last days. So it was natural for him to be in the forefront of my mind when re-drafting my will. I would have left it all to him.”

Holy shit. Ben knows she’d left Klaus a hefty amount, but he hadn’t heard her tell her lawyer how much. _All_ of it? Jesus _christ._

Allison is staring too, so she has to have an inkling of just how much money that was as well.

“I took it all back,” Daphne says, staring Allison in the eye, standing tall and unbending. “I can’t risk dying and allowing my fortune to fall to him while _you_ have his ear. I’ll not allow a Negro to get her disgusting little hands on one _cent_ of my money, do you understand?”

Ben feels his hands curl into fists. Mostly, though, he tries to project calm towards Allison, who looks seriously close to taking a swing at Daphne herself.

“If he comes to his senses before I die, I’ll take him back,” Daphne says. “Insert him back into my will. Give him the life he _deserves._ So long as he puts _you_ back in the life _you_ deserve.”

Ben is surprised Allison’s jaw isn’t cracking from the sheer force she’s exerting on it.

Daphne looks at Allison for a long moment. “I don’t expect you to care about this for his own sake. But I want you to know just how much you’re destroying here, and that you will _never_ be equal to us, no matter how much you grasp and claw and leech. Never.” She pauses. “Goodbye.”

Then she leaves.

Allison stands perfectly, utterly still for exactly two minutes and forty seconds.

Then, just when Ben is certain she’ll punch something and break either it or her hand (or both), she - sags. Lets out a shuddering breath. And then -

She starts crying.

And Ben can’t do a _fucking_ thing.

**********

“Well, then!” Klaus twirls around, lifting his hands and presenting the room like he’s a real estate agent. “What do you think?”

Allison gives a smile - muted, but there. She gives a thumbs-up.

“It’s pretty nice,” Ben allows, looking around the room. It’s not the fanciest room in the house, but it’s perfectly nice. Right next door to Klaus’ room, modestly but tastefully decorated, and it even has a couple shelves of books that look interesting. Ben peers at the spines and smiles a little.

“Isn’t it?” Klaus grins. “Who’s awesome? Me. I’m awesome. Am I right?”

Allison finally cracks a bigger smile, and she huffs out a faint laugh. But she does nod.

“Hug her,” Ben tells Klaus. Thankfully, Klaus hardly even needs an excuse to do that, so he doesn’t question it. He steps forward and wraps Allison up in a hug.

Ben is the only one who sees her blinking rapidly at the contact, but by how strongly she’s hugging back, Klaus can probably pick up that she’s upset. He hugs her tighter.

They sway slightly for a couple minutes before Allison sighs a little and pulls back. Klaus gives her a look. “Are you okay?”

She takes a deep breath and nods. He raises an eyebrow and glances over at Ben.

“Daphne talked to her,” Ben says neutrally. “While you were gone earlier. It didn’t go well.”

Klaus flinches a little. “Oh.” He looks at Allison awkwardly. “Uh. Hey, don’t - don’t listen to whatever she said, okay? I used to like her, but that was before I knew she’s a terrible human being.”

Allison gives him a warmer smile, and reaches out to briefly squeeze his arm. Before she can communicate anything else, though, the door opens and the Waters come in.

“Klaus, hello!” Mrs. Waters says, swanning past Allison like she doesn’t exist. “How are you settling in?”

“Just fine, thank you very much!” Klaus chirps.

“Excellent, glad to hear it,” Mr. Waters says gruffly. He spares a single glance at Allison, but then dismisses her. “And the facilities are to your liking?”

“And the spiritual energies?” Mrs. Waters frets.

“Like I said before, everything is just perfect,” Klaus says soothingly. “None of that’s changed. But might I introduce you to my sister, Allison?”

The Waters look over at Allison. To her credit, she manages to hide her frustration at their initial dismissal, but Ben knows how much that had to burn. Allison always did like being the center of attention, and before now she hardly even had to work for it.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Mrs. Waters says, after the barest pause. “Hello. I’m Mrs. Waters, and this is my husband.”

Neither of them moves to offer their hand.

“....Alright!” Klaus says with forced cheer when the silence stretches out for several seconds. Ben is busy glaring at the Waters, but he spares Klaus a brief glance. Klaus looks - well, like he’s just been dropped in the middle of a standoff between his black sister and two rich white racists currently supplying a roof over their heads and told he’s the one who has to manage the entire thing. “Well, I think both Allison and I are a bit - tired right now. From the move. So if we could just have a bit of time to decompress….”

“Of course, Klaus,” Mrs. Waters says, looking back at him and smiling. “I’ll send a servant up to you when it’s time for dinner.”

“Much obliged,” Klaus says, and keeps smiling as she leaves the room. Mr. Waters follows her, but pauses at the door.

“It’s good to have you here, Klaus,” Mr. Waters says. “I know I’m not as vocal about it as my wife, but I do think your abilities are simply - incredible. Really.”

“Why, thank you,” Klaus says, placing a hand on his chest. “Your regard is _much_ appreciated.”

He winks at Mr. Waters, who stares at Klaus for a heartbeat longer than is entirely normal. Then he coughs a little and leaves.

Ben blinks. Wait. He knows that look. He’s seen that look directed at Klaus a thousand, a million times before. Usually in _far_ less upscale surroundings, but no matter how subtle, there’s really no mistaking that kind of look. That kind of _want._

Well. Shit.

This is going to be interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: more racism (shocker), mention of past attempted brainwashing

Allison has analyzed the matter from several different angles, weighed the various factors, done her research, and thoroughly investigated. And she has, finally, come to her conclusion.

1961 is a goddamned _shithole._

She closes her book, and glares at the cover. Not heatedly, though. It’s really not the book’s fault. In fact, the books are the only things that have made the past week bearable.

Her room is….nice. She wouldn’t have been ashamed to have it in her own house, back home. But it’s only just barely not a prison. Whenever Allison ventures out, the staff are in turns condescending or frigidly polite. The very few times she’s run across either of the Waters, they not-so-subtly requested that she go back to her room. And stay there.

Allison flops backward onto the bed and hisses out between her teeth. The book rests on her stomach, and she grips the bedspread in her hands.

She wonders if Ben is here. If he were, and if she _had her damn voice back,_ she could just - talk to him. Pass the time. It honestly wouldn’t matter even if he wasn’t here, because just pretending that he was would be a much-needed excuse to vent.

And she so _dearly_ wants to vent.

But she doesn’t get the chance to dwell on that for much longer, because someone raps on the door.

She goes to open it, and - it’s Klaus, of course. No one else comes to see her, except for the servants when they bring her meals. Klaus swans into the room with a smile that could light up the world’s deepest underground cavern. Allison feels….a little annoyed at that, but she tries to squash it down. It’s not _his_ fault everyone else thinks Allison isn’t fit to walk the halls of this fucking house.

“Hey!” Klaus says. “How’s my favorite sister? Yes, you’re my favorite, no need to blush, although actually that’s just because you’ve never literally tried to kill me….that I know of.” He peers at her, exaggerated suspicion on his face. “Anything you want to confess? This is a no-judgement zone, promise, Ben’s tried to kill me more times than I can count and it’s only because he doesn’t control his own corporeality that he hasn’t succeeded.”

Against her will, Allison lets out a small snort. Klaus smiles, and glances to the side.

“See?” he says. “Told you….Pity laugh?! That wasn’t a pity laugh! And even if it were, it’s more than I’ve ever gotten from _you!_....oh, fuck you.”

That does get Allison to laugh for real, even if the sound is scratchy and hoarse. She shakes her head and gestures for him to sit down. He does so, still arguing with Ben. He only breaks off when she snaps her fingers to get attention, whereupon she gestures at the space where Ben is standing.

“Ugh,” Klaus says, slumping in his chair. “Am I just a relay to you people?” But he fires up his powers at the same time, blue glow overtaking his hands, and then Ben is standing there.

Allison is used to the sight by now (that’s a lie. She’ll never be used to it, but that’s a good thing. Being reminded each time of just how much of a miracle this is is probably good for her), so all she does is smile at him. He smiles back.

“What did you think of that book?” Ben says, nodding at the discarded book on the bed. His face is alight with excitement, which she knows is both because he’s an absolute nerd and just because he can talk to her.

Allison fetches her pad of paper (the doctor said she’ll likely recover the ability to speak….but not for some time. She tries to avoid the sticky, choking feeling of panic in the meantime) and writes down her opinions of the novel up to the point where she stopped. It honestly isn’t all that much to her taste, but Ben is so happy to discuss literature with someone who will actually know what he’s talking about that she manages to slog through just for him. Well, for him and the fact that it’s the only thing to do while stuck in this room, she means.

She and Ben talk for the next twenty minutes, while Klaus stays curled up on the chair. He’s being uncharacteristically silent, and Ben eventually notices her puzzled glances.

“Talked with a few important people today,” Ben shrugs, glancing over at Klaus, who either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about them discussing him. “It was tiring, and one of them was a hell of an asshole.”

_He didn’t lose his temper?_ Allison writes.

“Couldn’t,” Ben shrugs. “Or, well, it would have been a hell of a bad idea. He’s trying to build up a nest egg so we don’t have to stay - here.”

The thought of _Klaus_ having even a modicum of self-control is a bewildering concept. Allison remembers what Klaus was like as a teen - not so much _pushing_ boundaries as shattering them completely. He was so uncontrollable that Dad seriously considered having Allison rumor him into compliance - something Allison didn’t so much as _refuse_ to do as argue against so strenuously that Dad thought twice and just declared Klaus a lost cause.

(It wasn’t altruistic. Yes, Allison didn’t want to erase her brother, because even at the height of her power addiction she wasn’t a fucking _sociopath,_ but what really made her _argue against Dad_ was the fact that she didn’t want her siblings to find out. She didn’t want to go through with it, and for them to learn what she had done and be afraid of her. She didn’t want _Luther_ to be afraid of her.)

(That shouldn’t have been her primary concern. She hates remembering the whole thing, now.)

But. The point is. Klaus is _not_ known for his self-restraint. So the fact that he’s really, genuinely trying, in order to get them enough money to live on their own and away from this place and its toxic atmosphere, is….it’s sweet.

They talk for a little while longer before Klaus’ fists splutter out. He’s looking visibly tired by then, so Allison makes a decision.

_I’ll go get us something to eat,_ she shows him.

He squints at it, and frowns at her. “What? You’re sure? I mean, I can -”

Allison gently pushes him back down when he tries to stand. It’s a mark of how much making Ben corporeal taxes him that he doesn’t try to resist. She gives him a look, and he grumbles but doesn’t try to protest again.

Which is good, because if Allison doesn’t manage to get out of this room even _once_ today, she will not be responsible for her actions.

The kitchens are one of the few places she doesn’t have to search for, thankfully, so she makes a beeline for them and arrives quickly. The cooks there are less…. _overtly_ racist, which is probably the best she’s going to get under this roof. For fuck’s sake, it’s almost as if they’re all _trying_ to be assholes.

She’s experienced racism before, back in her own time. Of course she has. But it was never as - _casual_ as this. Never held the unvoiced, ubiquitous undercurrent that this is normal, this is accepted by the _majority_ of people in the country, this is the way the world _works._

She doesn’t know how to fight against that. She’s never had to.

And then, of course, on her way back to her room she runs into Mr. Waters. As in literally.

“Oh!” he says, jumping back. Allison does the same, and spends a few heart-stopping seconds scrambling to hold onto the tray. She manages, just barely.

Allison breathes in deeply and checks it over. Good. None of the food fell, and although the drinks sloshed over a bit it isn’t a large spill. She relaxes.

“That was an impressive recovery,” Mr. Waters says, and she glances up at him.

It strikes her that that is literally the first compliment she’s gotten from a white person other than Klaus since coming to 1961.

She pushes that away, though, because it’s honestly - just not helpful right now. So Allison merely smiles and bobs her head a little in thanks.

“You’re - Allison, correct?” Mr. Waters says, tilting his head slightly.

Aaand she stops smiling.

Allison takes a deep breath, and forces herself to nod at the man who’s been hosting her for a week now and still has to confirm her name.

“I thought so,” he says, oblivious. He looks at the tray. “Oh, Klaus mentioned he was going to spend the evening with you. He sent you to get dinner?”

There’s a sharp stab of anger, and this time Allison doesn’t bother trying to push it down. She presses her lips together and doesn’t answer him, instead carefully breathing out through her nose.

“Hmm,” Mr Waters looks between her and the tray. Then he nods to himself and seems to come to a decision. “Allison, you know, I’ve been thinking. You’ve been here for a week now, and you’ve been cooped up in your room most of that time. It must be a little boring. And idle hands are the devil’s playthings, you know.”

Allison blinks at him, and cautiously nods, because - well, she _was_ just thinking about that.

“So I came up with a solution!” Mr. Waters says, looking rather pleased with himself. He gestures at the tray. “You’re clearly suited to housework, so we can hire you as a maid. You’ll be on the lowest rung of the hierarchy, of course, but you can finally make yourself useful! Won’t that be nice?”

Allison -

Allison -

She isn’t entirely sure what happens next.

Oh, she sees the events unfold clearly enough. She just can’t quite process how everything fits together, how one thing follows after another. It’s one thing to watch herself shift the tray to her left hand, bring up her right, and slap Mr. Waters across the face, and it’s another thing to realize that she’s the one who made that happen.

Mr. Waters staggers back, and for some reason Allison can’t hear anything except a ringing sound ~~like someone’s shot a gun next to her ear~~. She stares at him, blank-faced, as he sags against the wall, shock painting his features, staring at her like she’s sprouted another head.

His mouth moves slightly, like he’s mumbling something, but she still can’t hear it. She notices that the ringing is slowly subsiding, the rest of the world seeping back into focus, but all she can really feel is the stinging of her palm.

That is, until Mr. Waters grabs her arm roughly, bruisingly tight.

The world comes back with a _pop,_ just in time for her to hear, “-uck was that, girl?! Answer me!”

“-hh,” Allison says, momentarily forgetting her throat. She startles, and tries to bring up her fingers to brush against her throat, but Mr. Waters yanks her arm back down and glares at her.

“You come into my house, eat my food, and when I’m generous enough to _offer you a job_ you _assault_ me? Is that how you treat your betters?”

Allison yanks her arm away, but the movement jostles the tray she’s holding and

she

loses

her

grip.

Food and ceramic and glass and liquids smash to the ground, exploding all over the floor, and both Allison and Mr. Waters jump back from it. Allison winces at the mess. Goddamnit.

“What the _hell,_ ” Mr. Waters says, and she looks up to find him glaring at her. “The hell - was that on purpose, you little Negro? Throwing my hospitality on the _ground?_ I don’t care if you’re a fucking _nature spirit,_ that kind of behavior is _unacceptable. That is not how you treat your superiors, girl.”_

The breath freezes in Allison’s lungs and she raises her hand again, this time forming into a fist because she is _so. fucking. sick._ of this, this endless stream of hate and arrogance and barbs and criticisms and _judgement,_ like they could _ever_ know enough about her to judge, much less have the _right_ to, and she just wants to _fucking hurt him_ like she knows she can, because she knows a fighter’s physique when she sees one and if this man has ever seriously thrown a punch in his life she’d eat her shoes, so it’s _so goddamned satisfying_ to see that split-second of realization and fear break out over his face as her arm moves forward and -

\- is caught.

“What,” says a voice, low and angry, “The _fuck_ is happening here?”

Allison freezes, and looks over, and realizes -

Huh. She’s….never actually seen Klaus get _angry_ before.

“Your _sister_ assaulted me!” Mr. Waters says, drawing himself up to his full height, eyes glinting with rage. “And threw my property on the ground! I’ve been tolerant up until now, Klaus, but this is inexcusable! Since you clearly can’t control her, she is _not_ welcome in my household any longer!”

Klaus frowns, and releases her arm. He glances down at the mess on the ground, and between the two of them, and then to the side where presumably Ben is -

Oh. That’s what brought him here. Ben must have followed her when she got food, witnessed the whole thing - or at least the start of it - and went to get Klaus. Allison….doesn’t actually know how to feel about that.

Klaus’ posture changes slightly, losing the sharp edge he came in with. There’s still a live-wire tension in him, though, and a quick grimace flashes across his face before he turns to Mr. Waters. “Sir, are you sure she didn’t just drop it? That sounds more likely than - throwing.”

Mr. Waters is unpacified. “I don’t give a damn if a spirit yanked it out of her hands! That’s not the issue here! She _hit_ me!”

_Keep talking, you’re just asking for another one,_ Allison thinks, her hand curling into another fist.

Klaus sees it, though, and steps closer to her. “Allison, go back to your room.”

She jerks her head back a little, looking at him in startlement.

He isn’t smiling. “Allison. Go back to your room.” His voice lowers. “Don’t make this worse, Ally.”

There’s an edge in his voice she can’t identify, but his words make _rage_ flare in her chest, because _how dare he, he knows NOTHING about she’s been going through these past two weeks,_ just runs right in here and treats her like _she’s_ the one entirely in the wrong, while he’s been cavorting and playing around and not caring and _why is he not taking her side -_

It’s only when he catches her wrist again that she realizes she’s in the middle of trying to slap him as well.

Klaus steps closer to her, and grits out, _“Please, Allison.”_

Her heartbeat is pounding loud in her ears, breathing sharp and ragged, and for a moment she wonders if this is what Vanya felt like when she was staring out at them from that cell.

Allison wrenches her hand from him, although he lets go easily. Then she whirls around, and storms back down the hall. She hears Mr. Waters start to say something, but Klaus interrupts, speaking to him in a low tone. She doesn’t bother trying to pick up what he’s saying.

Nothing he’s ever said has ever been worth listening to anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now return to our regularly scheduled Hargreeves Miscommunication And Angst Show. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings at end.

Klaus is rapidly losing any kind of control he has over this entire situation, and that’s completely terrifying.

Which is not to say this is a _new_ feeling. Klaus can count the number of times he’s been in control of his life on one hand. But this one - this one is so much worse, because it’s not just his own ass on the line here. Anything he does will have massive effects on Allison, on his sister he _just got back,_ and he doesn’t - he _can’t_ let her get hurt.

So he needs to _fix this._

Granted, that’s going to be a bit of a challenge.

“I want her _gone,_ ” George says. He’s pacing around the room, fuming. After calling a maid to deal with the mess in the hallway, he pulled Klaus into a side room and demanded Klaus get rid of Allison. “You’re welcome here, Klaus, you always are, but not her. She leaves today.”

“Sir,” Klaus says, because he knows George likes to be called sir, especially by Klaus. “She lost her temper. We’ve all done things we regret when that happens, am I right?”

It’s a good thing Ben isn’t here, because he’d probably interject with a _completely unhelpful_ comment he probably thinks is witty. Instead, though, he’s actually being useful and shadowing Allison. Klaus doesn’t know if she’s actually going to listen to him or if she decided to - hunt down Lorraine and slap _her_ as well, or something, but as long as Ben doesn’t come shouting for Klaus to intervene again he can live in hope.

It’s not like he _blames_ her for anything.

He gets it, in fact. He really does. The Waters - and pretty much everyone else in their social circle - are fucking horrible people (Klaus _sort of_ knew that already, but it’s become a lot more salient in the past two weeks). They’ve made comments that would have the papers and social activists bringing down the wrath of god back home, but in this time they’re entirely unremarkable.

So Klaus has listened to a lot of crap about people who don’t fit the high class’ absurdly narrow standards. The race stuff….yeah, that bothered him before Allison came along. Now it bothers him a lot more. And it’s not all secondhand anger, either - there’s a lot of choice description about queer people. Starting with the fact that ‘queer’ hasn’t been reclaimed yet, and hearing it now sounds like the slur it originally was.

Yeah. He gets it. He’s wanted to take a swing at quite a few people himself over the past sixteen months, in fact. Normally, he’d be cheering Allsion on, and there’s a damn large part of him that’s doing just that.

The other part of him, though, is shrieking out alarm bells. It’s the part he’s cultivated out on the streets, where looking too attractive will mean you’re in for a very rough night, where an insult to the wrong person can get you beaten half to death. It’s a knowledge of that invisible line that people have, where crossing it means you just gave up all right to be treated with basic human decency.

Contrary to popular belief, Klaus actually does know where that line is. He just never paid much attention to it beyond courtesy before.

Right now, though, _Allison_ has crossed it. She was standing on the very edge before, just by dint of _existing,_ which is _completely fucking unfair_ but still something Klaus could handle. He’s been there himself for….most of his life, really, so he could handle that.

And he _was._ He was handling it. He misjudged, though, because Allison is utterly unused to being treated like she has been and of course that was going to lead to violence. He should have realized - she hasn’t been physically hurt or threatened since that first night, hasn’t been _openly_ disparaged beyond a couple times, hasn’t endured material hardship, hasn’t been extorted for money or sex, but - _that’s what she expects._ Those are the _absolute minimum standards she’s used to._ He’s been working under the assumption that she knows just how lucky and _precarious_ her position is, how easily it can all turn to smoke, but she doesn’t. She’s never been in a situation like this before.

A part of him envies that.

The other part is frantically trying to figure out how he can contain the damage.

“I don’t care,” George says flatly. “She assaulted me, she needs to learn her goddamned _place._ ”

So Klaus decides on the one course of action that’s never failed him.

He reaches out and loosely grabs George’s wrist. George stops and looks at him, anger still painted on his face. Not at Klaus, though. He can work with this.

“She has issues,” Klaus hedges, because he’s _not_ going to insult his sister’s skin but he can totally insult her choices. That’s practically the Traditional Hargreeves Pastime. “And she can definitely be a problem. But she’s still my sister, and I can’t just drop her.”

“You might just have to leave as well, then,” George says. “Because I won’t allow her to stay.”

“You really mean that?” Klaus says softly.

“Of course I do,” George says.

“Is there anything I can do to get you to change your mind?” Klaus wonders, taking a small step closer. He pitches his voice _just_ right, light enough that it could be perfectly innocent but low enough to evoke some ideas.

George blinks, but rallies in the space of a heartbeat. “No.”

It’s too late, though. Klaus knows he has him.

“Oh,” Klaus sighs, letting go of George’s wrist and ‘incidentally’ trailing his fingertips along the palm as he pulls away. “That’s….too bad. I really enjoyed my stay here, sir. I was looking forward to experiencing more of your hospitality.”

“More?” George says, almost definitely without meaning to. His face twitches when he realizes, but his eyes don’t leave Klaus’ face.

“Yeah,” Klaus says. He looks away and laughs a little. “I bet you have a lot you haven’t shown me. Like - oh, I always wanted to see the master bedroom, actually. I find it hard to believe there’s a better bedroom than mine in this house.”

“It - it is very nice,” George says.

“I’ll bet,” Klaus says wistfully. He sneaks a glance at George, and then looks away, as if embarrassed. “There would be so much to explore, sir.”

“Yes,” George says. He sounds a bit strangled.

Klaus looks back at him, and takes another small step forward. George’s pupils dilate as Klaus reaches up and brushes against his cheek.

“I’d really like to stay,” Klaus says, voice heavy with regret. “But I understand if I can’t.”

George swallows. Twice.

“I,” he says. “I think - I might have been a little hasty.”

Klaus blinks. “Oh?”

George reaches up and covers Klaus’ hand with his own. He keeps staring into Klaus’ eyes, and Klaus makes sure to bat his eyelashes a couple times. He knows his strengths.

“Yes,” George says breathlessly. “I - I’d really like it if you - stayed. And enjoyed my hospitality for a - while longer.”

“Sir,” Klaus says, widening his eyes and watching as George’s pupils dilate at the word even more. “Oh, I’d be _very_ grateful.”

“Good,” George says, stunned. “That’s good.”

Klaus smiles.

**********

Fifteen minutes later, Ben finds him in his room. He’s pulled off all the blankets on the bed, and curled up in the corner. He actually can’t _see_ Ben come in, because he’s wrapped up like a mummy with only his nose poking out, but there’s a soft sigh from someone and the door hasn’t been opened.

Sure enough, there’s the slight sounds of a body settling on the floor next to his head. Klaus doesn’t give any indication he’s aware of Ben.

“Allison cried for a bit, and then calmed down and went to sleep,” Ben says. “She’s….really angry.”

Klaus doesn’t answer.

“You’re going to have to apologize big-time for that one,” Ben adds. “Might want to start rehearsing it now.”

He still doesn’t answer.

Ben is quiet for another few seconds, before he says, “Did you sleep with him?”

Klaus moves his head from side to side, then falls still.

“Are you _going_ to sleep with him?” Ben says.

He could try to evade, try to pretend it’s uncertain or at least not set in stone, but. There’s no point. Klaus nods.

Ben sighs, and it doesn’t sound surprised. And why would he be? Sex has always been one of Klaus’ main tools to get what he wants. If anything, Ben has been more surprised by Klaus’ incredibly uncharacteristic celibacy over the past sixteen months.

“I’m sorry,” Ben says at last. “Dave - would Dave be upset?”

Klaus grips Dave’s dog tags tighter, tight enough that the metal cuts into his palm. It hurts. Good.

“....Yeah,” Klaus says quietly, so quiet he’s not actually sure Ben can hear it. “But - not because….”

Not because Klaus is whoring himself out and betraying Dave’s memory. He wouldn’t even see it as a betrayal, honestly. Dave would be upset that Klaus is even in this situation in the first place. He’d be angry at George, angry at Allison, angry at the entire goddamned world before he’d be angry at Klaus. Not to say he’s incapable of it, but - he wouldn’t be angry at Klaus about _this._

Dave always was too good for him.

“I think I’d like him,” Ben says after a pause.

Klaus shifts a little, and his arm tingles with pins and needles. He ignores them, and doesn’t answer Ben.

Ben sighs again. “There might be others who would let us stay. Without you sleeping with them.”

“For a while,” Klaus says. “Not long. Especially with Allison being Allison.”

“We could try asking her not to be like that,” Ben says, but his voice doesn’t hold much hope.

“ _You_ want to tell her she shouldn’t be angry about being treated like shit?”

“No, but I’d tell her she can’t lose her temper like that,” Ben says. “She….doesn’t understand what’s at stake here, does she?”

“No,” Klaus says. “And even if we told her - she still wouldn’t. Not really. She’d try, but….”

“It’s something you have to experience for yourself before you can,” Ben finishes, a defeated note in his voice. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Klaus sighs. “So.”

“So,” Ben echoes. He shifts in some way Klaus can’t see, and sighs again. “If he hurts you, though, we leave.”

“Ben -”

“I mean it,” Ben says. “We might not have good options, but we have some. It’s not the middle of winter and you don’t have a broken leg. If he hurts you, we can find someone else to take us. Promise me.”

Klaus thinks it over, and eventually gives a nod. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Ben says.

“Mm,” Klaus says. He clutches Dave’s tags tighter.

He wonders what Dave would think of Allison. He can’t imagine them being best friends, but they’d probably get along. Dave doesn’t have a hateful bone in his body - he gets _angry,_ sure, but only for valid reasons (or normal-people valid reasons, anyways, because apparently normal people get upset when they learn about Klaus’ sketchy understanding of consent). Also, if Allison doesn’t like Dave he may have to disown her.

….didn’t. Dave _didn’t_ have a hateful bone in his body. If Allison _didn’t_ like Dave. Because they’re never going to meet. Because Dave is dead, because Dave is still alive, because Dave doesn’t remember him, because they never met.

It’s an old hurt. Sixteen months old. Half a year longer than he actually knew Dave. He’s grown used to it, in the way you can grow used to a missing limb or chronic pain. Dave is currently twenty years old, living with his family in Ohio, has no idea that Klaus even exists and wouldn’t care if he did.

He won’t be coming to live with his uncle in Dallas for another two years. It’s funny, how little Klaus is prepared for that. Originally - originally, it hurt too much to even think about still being in town when that happens. Over the last few months, though, Klaus has found himself almost _hoping_ he’ll still be here when Dave comes, because - even just getting to _see_ him, just once, just _one time -_

Maybe it would be better if they aren’t here, though. Maybe Dave should be left alone, never even have incidental contact with Klaus in this timeline. Maybe Klaus should stop torturing himself.

(But everyone else does it, so why not join in on the fun?)

He needs to stop - letting his memories of Dave drive him. He can’t let go of the memories themselves, _no,_ he will literally die before he lets that happen - but. Dave is dead. Dave is dead and _gone,_ gone like he never existed because he literally doesn’t anymore. It will never, ever stop hurting, he doesn’t even want it to, but he needs to - he needs to focus on the living now. He needs to focus on keeping his sister safe. And he can’t do that if he keeps thinking of sex as some special, wonderful thing that should only be shared with Dave.

Klaus can’t afford to stumble over that, now.

**********

He apologizes to Allison the next day. She - doesn’t really accept it, but that’s fine. That’s okay. She’s not obliged to, or anything. Klaus was always annoyed at the implication that you _have_ to forgive certain people for basically arbitrary things, and he _was_ an asshole to her. He can deal with a cold shoulder.

When he eats lunch with the Waters, he talks to Lorraine about the balances of spiritual energy around the house and doesn’t remember a word of it.

Ben follows him around like a second shadow throughout most of the day, occasionally snarking about something. His heart isn’t into it, though. Klaus actually feels a little annoyed at that. It’s not like anyone is going to die, or get hurt. He’s just going to have sex. A meaningless exchange he’s done literally thousands of times before.

Around mid-afternoon, he takes off Dave’s tags and carefully shuts them in his nightstand drawer.

His instincts prove to be accurate, because forty minutes later there’s a knock on the door, and when Klaus goes to open it he finds George there.

“....Hi,” George says, staring at how Klaus has three buttons of his shirt undone.

“Hey,” Klaus says, smiling. He’s an excellent actor. No one except Ben would notice how miserable he is right now. And Ben is currently with Allison, as per Klaus’ request. “Come on in.”

George does so, and can’t seem to stop staring at Klaus.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Klaus lies. “Actually, before you came I was wondering if I should look for you.”

“Really?” George says. “Why?”

Klaus ticks his smile up and steps closer. “I just wanted to.”

George swallows. “Klaus,” he says, and his eyes are hungry, _wanting._ “Klaus, I -”

“Shh,” Klaus says. “Enough talk.”

And then he’s kissing the man, and there are hands on him, and Klaus can almost pretend it doesn’t feel like he’s breaking apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: period-typical racism, mention of period-typical homophobia, dub-con/prostitution.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: racism, some physical violence.

Ben probably shouldn’t be angry at his sister who is currently experiencing horrible racism, or his brother who is currently letting an old pervert fuck him to keep a roof over their heads, but he’s angry regardless.

To be fair, Ben isn’t being discriminating. He absolutely _hates_ with George Waters. He’s angry at Lorraine Waters, for being so spectacularly oblivious. He’s even upset with _himself,_ for not - fixing this. Somehow. He doesn’t actually know how he could do that, but his subconscious is guilting him anyways.

It’s been four days since Klaus started sleeping with George Waters. To Ben’s knowledge, it’s happened three times.

And to give the man one single, solitary point of credit - he hasn’t hurt Klaus. Not physically, at least, not more so than regular activities inflict. However many other faults George Waters has, he’s not a sadist. He seems entirely content to simply have sex with a beautiful younger man who did, _technically,_ consent to it.

Ben hates to say it, but it could be worse. In some tiny, infinestimal way, it could be worse.

It’s still pretty fucking horrible, naturally.

Because, of _fucking_ course, Klaus and Allison are fighting.

“Allison, you are going to end up _killing someone!_ ” Klaus says, an edge of hysteria in his tone.

Allison makes a sharp, frustrated noise, and presses her pen so hard against her pad that the sound of ripping paper comes a moment later. She stares at it for a second, before letting out a hoarse scream of frustration and throwing it to the ground.

Klaus grabs at his hair and shoots an equally frustrated look at Ben.

“Don’t pull me into this,” Ben says wearily. “You wanted me to stay quiet. That’s what I’m doing.”

His brother’s eyes go brittle, and for a moment Ben feels bad. But then Klaus returns to trying to talk Allison out of attending the party tonight.

Yeah. That wouldn’t end well.

There’s going to be a fair number of high-society faces at the house tonight, and they’re all eager to see the - _sigh_ \- amazing power Klaus can bring to bear. Frankly Ben cannot actually fathom why Allison wants to go. It’s going to be dull, and tedious, and the snobbery is going to be through the roof. Not to mention the fact that everyone got used to seeing Klaus’ tricks a while ago and keep expecting more, so on top of _every other problem_ they’re dealing with right now there’s also that.

Yeah, Ben knows she’s bored. Bored and tired and frustrated. Staying in this room all the time has to wear on a person. But considering what Klaus is _doing_ in order to make sure she can stay in this room, Ben finds that his sympathy is limited. The fact that it doesn’t seem to occur to her that she could lose it all is….it makes sense in _theory,_ but seeing it is completely alien to him.

Of course, it doesn’t exactly help that Klaus refuses to _tell_ her just how much goodwill her assault on George Waters cost (namely: all of it). Nor is he telling her just what (who) he’s doing to restore that goodwill. As far as Allison knows, the entire incident passed without any notable consequences.

Klaus has argued that he doesn’t want Allison to know, that she doesn’t _need_ to know. Ben countered that if she never knows, then she’ll never fucking _learn._ To which Klaus shouted back that there are some things he’d rather his sister never learn. Ben - doesn’t actually know if Klaus was talking about the zero-sum harshness of the world Klaus lives in, or about the things Klaus himself does to stay ahead in that world.

Honestly, it hardly matters. Klaus refuses to tell Allison how he’s whoring himself out to George Waters, and he also hasn’t allowed Ben to do so either. By which Ben means Klaus hasn’t manifested him for the last four days. He’s made excuses to Allison, but she’s not stupid. So they’re fighting over that as well.

They have to prove they’re Hargreeveses _somehow,_ after all.

Ben doesn’t pay much attention to the rest of the argument. Klaus manages to talk Allison out of coming to the party, but it’s a close thing, and the resentment in her eyes is only growing. If she could still talk she would have rumored Klaus ages ago, Ben knows. Of course, if she could still talk, quite a few of their problems wouldn’t exist, and they likely wouldn’t even be having this argument.

But Ben knows better than to dwell on ‘what-ifs.’ Those are the kind of musings that drive you crazy, or at least unable to deal with the actual reality in front of you. And _someone_ needs to be capable of that right now.

He sends one last look at Allison, standing in the middle of the room and looking torn between crying and screaming, before he leaves to follow Klaus.

“This isn’t sustainable,” he says bluntly when he catches up.

Klaus flinches. It’s small, but it’s there. “Shut up,” he mutters petulantly.

“Klaus,” Ben says. “You _know_ it isn’t. For fuck’s sake, at this rate Allison is actually going to murder someone. Maybe you. You _can’t_ manage all of this alone, especially if you insist on keeping her in the dark and treating her like she can’t handle the truth.”

“And how _would_ she handle the truth, Ben?” Klaus says, stopping in the middle of the hallway and glaring at him. “Hm? Since you have _all_ the answers.”

“Better than she’s handling things right now,” Ben says. They’re retreading old ground here, but he forges on regardless. “Klaus, she doesn’t understand what’s at stake, not _really._ And I don’t actually _want_ her to any more than you do! That’s exactly what we’re trying to avoid! But right now she doesn’t realize that even the _slightest_ hint of aggression from her is completely disastrous. She has _no_ idea that losing her temper had any consequences at all, and _it’s going to end badly._ Do I actually have to remind you what happened the last time this family didn’t communicate?”

“Shut _up,_ ” Klaus says, looking away.

“Why? Because I’m right? You know I am,” Ben says. “I’m always right.”

Klaus abruptly pivots to face him, glaring. “Well, maybe I don’t care if you’re right or not! Maybe I just want to be selfish and stupid this time!”

“You mean like every time?” Ben says without thinking.

Klaus’ face _freezes,_ before going completely blank.

Ben opens his mouth, and then closes it. He - didn’t mean to say that. It’s not true. But….it’s true much more often than it isn’t, actually, and Ben _is_ goddamned sick of it. Yes, sleeping with George Waters is to help Allison, but like so many things, Klaus is making it about him now. Pushing people away, not listening to advice, deciding everything on his own _very_ dubious judgement, alienating people who _should_ be his allies - it’s a recipe for disaster, one Ben has seen repeated many times before.

He takes a deep breath -

“Come on,” Klaus says, starting to walk down the hallways again, not looking at Ben. “We don’t want to be late for the party.”

Ben stares after his brother’s retreating back, feeling the tension and frustration between them grow and grow with every passing heartbeat.

He runs his hand over his face and hisses out a breath.

“Goddammit.”

**********

“Two of clubs, eight of hearts, king of hearts,” Ben says, bored out of his damn mind.

“I’m seeing….two of clubs, eight of hearts….oh, and myself, which must mean king of hearts,” Klaus says, smiling in the general direction of the woman holding the cards. He doesn’t get the angle _exactly_ right, thanks to the oversized blindfold wrapped around the upper half of his face.

“Right again,” the woman says in amazement, turning her hand so the rest of the spectators can see the cards. There’s a low murmur and nods of acknowledgement, but the woman is the only one who looks genuinely impressed.

Which is fairly common nowadays. Klaus and Ben have been doing these tricks for well over a year now. The shine has worn off. The upper crust have come to view Klaus’ powers as more of an idle curiosity than something impossible and reality-warping. Which is, of course, _yet another_ problem they’ll have to deal with soon. Ben has no doubt that unless they step up their game, they won’t be able to draw an audience over single digits by the end of the year.

Sure enough, when Klaus brightly asks who’d like to draw more cards, the woman is the only one to volunteer, and a couple people drift off. Ben swallows as his eyes follow them, heart sinking.

There’s no indication that Klaus notices the lackluster response, but Ben knows that he does. Klaus is actually very good at reading a room - he just fails to make use of that ability to the fullest extent most of the time (in Ben’s opinion, anyway. Klaus would say that ‘ensuring he doesn’t die’ and ‘seducing people’ are the absolute most that he can be bothered with, and anything more complicated is too much work and wouldn’t be worth it, besides).

The woman shuffles the deck again and picks out three new cards. Ben sighs and scratches the back of his neck as he looks over her shoulder to see -

“Allison?” he blurts.

Klaus’ smile freezes. “What?”

“Allison,” Ben says, staring at his sister who _absolutely should not be here._ “I - she’s here, she came, I don’t -”

She’s not in the actual room proper, but in a hallway off the side. She’s leaning against the wall, looking out at the party with a wistful expression, and oh sweet jesus what is she _thinking_ why is she _here -_

The next thing Ben is aware of is Klaus saying, “Excuse me, pardon me, urgent spiritual business, sorry, coming through -” and leaving the discarded blindfold on the floor and the card-holding woman with a bemused look on her face, making a beeline through the crowd to run up to Allison and grab her by the arm to quickly usher her away.

Ben snaps out of his shock and hurries after them, swallowing as a buzz overtakes the room, one rather louder than the one that Klaus’ powers can generate now. Fuck.

But one thing at a time, and Ben really wants to know what the fuck Allison was _thinking._

He finds them not that far away, just a single turn, because Allison has dug her heels in and refused to be pulled any further. She expresses this, as Ben rounds the corner, with a slap across Klaus’ face.

Ben stops dead.

(Klaus would make a joke about that, usually.)

But Klaus is currently flinching back from Allison, holding up his hands with a jagged edge of fear in his eyes. It’s not from being hit, Ben knows. “You _can’t,_ Allison, Jesus Christ, we talked about this, I’m _sorry_ but you _can’t_ come to the party, _it’s not safe for you -_ ”

Allison hisses, and grabs the front of Klaus’ suit jacket. She tries to say something, but it just comes out as a messy garble of nonsense, which cuts off when she coughs, hand going to her throat.

“- Hey, hey, shh, it’s okay,” Klaus says, hands fluttering nervously. “Don’t talk, I can get the doctor -”

She shoves him away, and there’s a fraction of a second where Ben is _absolutely certain_ she’s going to hit him again, but instead she turns sharply (not before he sees the angry tears in her eyes) and runs off down the hallway.

Klaus sags against the wall, and when even that fails to hold him up he slides down it and ends up curled around himself on the ground, staring after Allison. He doesn’t seem to be breathing all that well.

_“....Fuck,”_ Ben whispers.

Klaus flinches a little, and looks over at him. Is he just now realizing Ben is here? Or does he actually still not, because his eyes are definitely looking pretty glazed there.

“I -” Ben realizes he should probably treat this like any of Klaus’ previous breakdowns - most of which were under the influence of drugs, but the expertise probably still applies. He quickly crouches down next to Klaus and suppresses the instinct to run after Allison as well. He can only focus on one crumbling sibling at a time, and Klaus is the one who can actually see him. “Klaus, hey, listen to me, just calm down. Breathe, okay, just breathe. In and out, in and out.”

It takes a handful of seconds, but Klaus eventually latches onto Ben’s instructions and tries to follow them. Ben coaxes him through the steps to regaining control over himself, trying not to slide into his own horrible flashbacks. For fuck’s sake, he thought - he thought he was _done_ with this, with watching people tear his brother apart and leave him helplessly trying to hold his mind together through the terror and confusion.

He never should have underestimated this family’s sheer level of dysfunction, though. God.

Eventually, though, Klaus’ breathing evens out, and he slowly lifts up his head to look at Ben. Ben relaxes.

“Okay,” Ben breathes. “Okay. That went well.”

Klaus lets out a choked laugh. “Just - perfect,” he says, trying to surreptitiously wipe at his eyes.

“Yeah,” Ben says. “So I’m not saying we should try to come clean with Allison, but I _will_ say that this is just going to happen again - only _worse_ \- if we don’t explain to her exactly why she can’t just fucking _do_ this.”

It occurs to him, now that he thinks about it, that Allison didn’t actually look like she was going to interact with the party at all. The hallway was shadowed and mostly tucked away, and she wasn’t making a move to leave it. She probably thought it was safe enough to just people-watch, get out of that coffin of a room for a little while.

But. It wasn’t safe. And _she needs to know that._

“I -” Klaus bites off the word. He looks away.

“I know you want to protect her, Klaus,” Ben says, feeling tired. “But this isn’t protecting, it’s coddling. And it’s dangerous. To her _and_ you.”

“It’s not - _just_ about that, Ben,” Klaus says. He looks tired too, but even more so. Haggard, really.

“Then what?” Ben says, tilting his head.

Klaus doesn’t answer. However, his hand comes up to touch the center of his chest - over the spot where Dave’s dog tags rest under his shirt.

It takes a second for Ben to detangle the gesture, and then he lets out a breath and leans back on his heels. “You think she’d think less of you for sleeping with Waters?”

Because it’s clear Klaus himself does, of course. Ben hasn’t spent the past fourteen years by his brother’s side and not learned how to read him, after all. He’d have to be blind to miss the way Klaus hates himself for sleeping with George Waters, even if it’s out of necessity.

Klaus shrugs, a quick and jerky movement. “I - dunno. I just don’t - want her knowing. Okay?”

It’s not okay, really. Things are falling apart around their ears, at every turn, and neither of them know how to fix it but they both know clear communication _might._ It’s not a guarantee, but it’s honestly the only thing that might _possibly_ work by now. Unfortunately, getting anyone with the name of ‘Hargreeves’ to successfully communicate is about as likely as Five doing a perfect time-jump.

“Klaus,” Ben says wearily, “I don’t -”

“There you are!”

Both Klaus and Ben’s heads snap up to see George Fucking Waters striding towards them. When he reaches Klaus, he frowns down at him and hauls him up to his feet.

“What the _hell_ was that, Klaus?” George Waters says. “The guests are talking about - about your _sister_ coming into the party, and it’s good that you got her away from everyone but you made a _scene,_ and it’s all everyone’s talking about! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Klaus stares at the man for a heartbeat, before -

He smiles apologetically, and places his hand on George Waters’ arm. “I’m so sorry, sir. I don’t know _what_ she was thinking, but we had a discussion and she _absolutely won’t_ be doing it again. You have my word. I hope the party wasn’t ruined?”

Ben closes his eyes, and breathes in very slowly and deliberately.

“Not - ruined, no,” George Waters says. “But Klaus, you need to _control_ her -”

“Of course,” Klaus says. “Already done. I will, of course, apologize _extensively._ ”

“What do you -” the man breaks off. “.... _Oh._ I….see.”

“It’ll be a _lengthy_ apology,” Klaus murmurs. “I do hope you’ll accept it, sir.”

“....Of course, Klaus.”

There’s the sound of retreating footsteps, and Ben is left alone in the hallway, uselessly watching the world fall apart all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And now, to at least partially counteract that downer of an ending, I'm happy to say that I now have the next story in this series completed! Hooray!
> 
> I may even take _two_ whole days off before beginning to write the one after that. How lazy of me. ;P


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings at end.

It’s been two days since the party, and Allison has refused to interact with Klaus since.

It’s petty of her, she knows. Intensely petty. Especially since she’s fairly certain he was trying to apologize the first time he came to her door. But _she just cannot take it any more._ It’s all - so much, too fucking much, and she’s feeling trapped and angry and cries herself to sleep every goddamn night and anyone who looks at her acts like she’s shit on their shoes and _she might never get to hold her daughter again -_

So. No, she’s not all that interested in hearing Klaus’ excuses.

Ben might be here. Then again, he might not. She hasn’t seen him in nearly a week, after all. That’s when Klaus started refusing to conjure him. He kept citing tiredness, lack of time, and a bunch of other bullshit. He had to have known she saw through it. But he never explained the real reason.

Honestly, she doesn’t have a clue. She has _no idea_ why Klaus is refusing to let her see Ben. Or maybe Ben is the one refusing? She doesn’t want to think that, but how well does she really know Ben? Her last real impression of him was before he died, and it’s been so long since then. He’s not an unchanging snapshot of how he was on the day of his death - he’s lived (well, existed) over a decade since then, with new experiences and twists added to him. Maybe he got tired of talking to her and Klaus can’t find a tactful way to tell her that.

Allison paces around her room for - oh, the six thousandth time. Conservatively estimating.

It’s not like she has much else to _do_ except think. There’s only so much time she can spend reading. She never was much for the old leatherbound classics that line the shelves of this room, and two weeks has made her thoroughly sick of them.

She wants - _needs_ \- to get out of this fucking room. But Allison just knows that as soon as she does, Klaus will come along and try to usher her back. And if he doesn’t, she’ll be driven back by the cold glares and hushed whispers of the staff, or maybe the outright orders of one of the Waters.

Of course, if either of them are as appallingly rude or condescending as before, Allison will not be responsible for her actions.

Once Allison and Klaus are talking again (probably not for a while, but she might just be able to make herself speed it up with the right incentive, and this is a big one), Allison resolves to ask him if they can move in with a new host. Surely there has to be _some_ fraction of the upper crust that aren’t horrifically racist, and anyone would be glad to host the only true medium in the world.

She runs the plan over in her mind, and slowly nods to herself, coming to a stop in the middle of the room. That….yeah, that should work. She can feel her temper cooling already, excitement seeping in to replace it at the thought of getting _out_ of here.

Allison sinks back down on the bed, and starts writing out her proposal to move. It’s a bit trickier than she thought, because she has a hard time keeping on topic with a neutral tone, but damn it, if Hollywood is good for anything it should be good for this.

The first draft is halfway done when her door is flung open.

Allison looks up in surprise, and then even greater surprise when she sees Mrs. Waters storm in. Mrs. Waters stops abruptly when she sees Allison, and her eyes dart around the room.

Allison stands from the bed, feeling off-balance. She hasn’t actually interacted with Mrs. Waters for more than a handful of seconds _total_ since coming to the house, so to say this is unexpected is rather understating it.

“You’re sleeping with my husband, aren’t you?” Mrs. Waters says, face stormy.

Okay, that’s _even more_ unexpected.

Allison makes a startled noise that scrapes against her throat, and she winces and rubs at it. Then she looks at Mrs. Waters and firmly shakes her head.

“Don’t lie,” Mrs. Waters snaps. “I know what’s going on. George refuses to throw you out of the house, and he was the most reluctant to take you in in the first place. I had to talk him into it! But after your _appalling_ behavior at the party I knew you had to go. The entire city is talking about it! A _Negro,_ at my party! Acting like you own the place! I’m in disgrace! I hated to let Klaus go, but it had to be done. Only George won’t hear of it! I’ve tried to get him to see reason, but he just digs his heels in harder, and won’t tell me why he won’t throw you out on the streets! So? Are you sleeping with my husband?”

It takes Allison a few heartbeats to process that, and then she frantically shakes her head. Shit. Marital troubles and suspicion of cheating and the consequences thereof probably don’t change all _that_ much in the next sixty years. If Mrs. Waters can’t be convinced that Allison definitely hasn’t seduced her husband, Allison doubts even Klaus can persuade her to let them stay.

How can she convince a racist housewife that a black woman isn’t seducing her husband, though?

Allison scoops up her pad of paper, and starts writing a reassurance, only for Mrs. Waters to smack the pad out of her hands. Allison jerks back in surprise.

“Don’t bother with your lies,” Mrs. Waters says venomously, leaning forward to glare at Allison. “They aren’t even worth the paper they’re written on. _I_ am going to tell your brother that he has to leave my house and take you with him, _and_ I’ll be warning all my friends about you. I hope you’re happy to have ruined _everything._ ”

Allison sucks in a breath, because - _shit._ Being kicked out isn’t that much of a problem, that’s at least the same shape of what she was aiming for, but Mrs. Waters’ slander will limit the number of places they can go afterwards. After all, Allison knows just how damaging a rumor can be.

Mrs. Waters whirls around and leaves the room. Allison stands frozen for another second before she realizes she needs to be _stopping her_ and then she scrambles after the woman.

Allison’s room is right next to Klaus’, so when she steps out into the hallway Mrs. Waters is already over at his door and flinging it open and saying, “Klaus, I’m so -”

Then she stops dead.

There isn’t really any reason Allison can think of that could make Mrs. Waters stop talking when she clearly likes it so much, so Allison blinks and strides closer, and reaches the door just as she hears a simultaneous, “Ah, shit,” and “Lorry, I can explain -”

And then Allison sees something no sister should _ever_ see.

Allison lets out a strangled yelp that scrapes against her throat, but for the first time her priority isn’t to stop and massage it to make the pain go away. Instead she jerks back as fast as she can and slaps a hand over her eyes. The image is still there, though, burning into her eyelids. Oh god, it _burns._

And then she yelps again and slams her hands over her ears, because there’s a sudden deafening _screech_ of _“WHAT THE **FUCK** ARE YOU **DOING!** ”_

Allison takes the monumental risk of cracking open her eyelids just a sliver. It’s blurry, but that’s a blessing right now. Mrs. Waters currently looks to be composed solely of high-octane unleaded shock and rage, and the mess of color further beyond her looks to be cowering back.

There’s a faint sound, which Allison is guessing is one of the men talking. She doesn’t remove her hands from her ears, because sure enough a second later -

_“YOU THINK THIS IS **FUNNY?** ”_

Ah, so it was Klaus who spoke, then.

“YOU’VE BEEN - AND _YOU’VE_ BEEN - UNDER _MY ROOF -_ ”

“It’s not how it looks, Lorry!” Mr. Waters says, loud enough that Allison hears it through her hands. She grimaces and carefully inches her palms away from her ears, ready to slam them back down again at the slightest hint of more screeching.

“Then _what is it,_ George?! Because from where I’m standing, I’ve come in to find my husband _rutting in another man like a QUEER!_ ”

_OKAY THAT’S ACTUALLY WORSE,_ Allison decides as she slams her hands over her ears again.

“No, wait, Lorry, I - it’s not how you think, it’s - he made me!”

….What.

_“What?”_ Mrs. Waters says sharply.

_What,_ Allison thinks as she looks up and her hands fall from her ears. Thankfully, Klaus has moved enough that she doesn’t see anything that makes her instantly want to burn her eyes out.

However, he does say “What?” as well, turning his head to stare at Mr. Waters.

“He made me!” Mr. Waters babbles. “With his powers! It was magic, I couldn’t resist, no one could have! I’m so sorry, Lorraine, but I swear he made me do it!”

“I fucking did _not,_ ” Klaus hisses, and oh, Allison realizes she wasn’t seeing him angry before. _This_ is Klaus when he’s angry.

“I’m not a queer, Lorraine, you know I’m not,” Mr. Waters pleads. “Have I ever done anything to make you think that? But Klaus, he all but shouts it everywhere he goes, and we _tolerated_ it because of his power, but we never realized the, the _danger,_ of course he’d use his magic for evil, I couldn’t say no -”

_“Fuck you,”_ Klaus snaps.

“See?” Mr. Waters shouts, leaning away from Klaus and pointing at him. “See, he’s trying it again, Lorraine, please, you’ve got to believe me -”

“I -” Mrs. Waters says, sounding conflicted. “George, I -”

“Oh, fuck this,” Klaus says suddenly. He stands up, and Allison hastily averts her eyes. There’s the sound of cloth on cloth. “You believe what you want. You people always do. Allison and I are leaving. Now. You won’t ever see me or my sister or our evil homo magic ever again.”

“....That,” Mrs. Waters says, ice slipping into her tone. “Would be preferred. And you can be sure that I’ll be warning my friends about your ways, _Klaus._ ”

“Wouldn’t expect anything else, _Lorriane,_ ” Klaus snipes. “George, why don’t you go, unless your erection hasn’t faded yet.”

_“Enough,”_ Mrs. Waters says. “George, darling -”

“Of course, dear,” Mr. Waters says. There’s the sound of movement, and Allison determinedly keeps looking at the wall until the couple moves past her.

“Enjoy a beggar’s life, Klaus,” Mrs. Waters says, and then they’re retreating down the hallway.

“Joke’s on you,” Allison hears Klaus mumble, although she doubts the Waters do. “I don’t know anything else.” Then, a couple seconds later, “You can come in now, Allison.”

Allison slowly steps into the room. She tries to avoid looking at the bed, all rumpled and debauched, and instead keeps her eyes firmly fixed on Klaus.

Who also looks rumpled and debauched. Lovely. Though at least he’s wearing clothes now.

Klaus opens a nightstand drawer and pulls out those dog tags he’s usually wearing. He slips them back on, and holds them for a moment, standing still. Not talking. Not looking at her.

Allison looks around for something to write with, and ends up snagging an embossed notepad and pen set that’s just lying on the desk. Helpful. She writes, and then shows it to Klaus.

_What the hell were you THINKING?_

Klaus - actually flinches, at that.

She underlines the words and glares at him.

Klaus opens his mouth, and closes it again. He looks almost - lost. “I - I didn’t force him, Allison….”

She hisses, and shakes her head. She writes again, seething at how it takes so goddamn _long._

_Not that. He obviously said yes. But WHY DID YOU DO IT AT ALL. That was STUPID. Is there ANYONE we can stay with now?_

There’s a long, long silence as Klaus stares at her. Then, slowly, he shakes his head.

Allison has to press the heel of her hand to her mouth. She takes several deep breaths. It doesn’t really help. So instead she writes more. It’s not as cathartic for her mood as venting with actual speech, but she’ll take what she can get.

_So I’ll ask again. What the FUCK were you THINKING? We’re HOMELESS now, all because you couldn’t keep it in your pants!_

Klaus flinches again. He looks miserable, but Allison doesn’t actually care. She isn’t saying anything that isn’t true. The choking feeling of panic starts to rise in her throat as she imagines what’s going to happen in the next couple hours. Fuck, _fuck,_ this is just - _god._

Her brother glances to the side, and it hits her all of a sudden that - oh, god, Ben must have known. Fuck.

_Is this why you haven’t been conjuring Ben?_ she writes. _Because he would have told me?_

Klaus stares at the floor after he reads it. “Yeah,” he says quietly. He jerks his head sharply, and glares at where Ben presumably is.

Allison grits her teeth. _You should have goddamned listened to him,_ she writes, the ink making angry slashes on the paper. _How long has he been yelling at you for this? Have you done this before?_

“No,” Klaus says dully. Then he flinches and looks at the not-empty-space again. “Ben -”

He falls silent, so presumably Ben is reading him the riot act. Klaus still looks miserable and terrified, but he also looks - almost _ashamed,_ actually. Wow, Allison didn’t know he had it in him.

After nearly two minutes, Klaus looks back at her, then at Ben again. He shuffled back a few steps, and gives a small, quiet, “Okay.”

Then his fists light up, and Ben is there.

Allison relaxes - slightly, but still - when she sees him. God, it’s good to have someone else who’s sane around here. She gives him a small smile.

He doesn’t smile back, though. Instead he looks at her levelly, and says, “Klaus only started sleeping with him to stop him from throwing you out after you slapped him.”

Allison

freezes.

“He didn’t want to,” Ben says, face unmoving. “But he didn’t want you getting hurt more. The party made things worse. Those things had _consequences,_ Allison.” He glances at Klaus. “I wanted to tell you about those consequences. Klaus didn’t.”

Allison is staring.

She -

She -

She writes, hand shaking, _why couldn’t we just go somewhere else?_

Ben presses his lips together. “Because there aren’t all that many people so interested in Klaus’ powers that they’d accept a black woman coming along as well. Maybe six months ago - _definitely_ a year ago, sure. But we’re _old news,_ Allison. We’ve been doing the same tricks for sixteen months by now, no matter how much we try to spice it up. People are getting _bored._ ”

Allison opens her mouth, and closes it when she remembers her throat. She writes, incredulously, _Bored? He’s the only actual medium - actual super-powered person, even - in the WORLD!_

They read it, and look blankly at her.

“....Yeah,” Klaus says slowly, like he’s pointing out something to a very stupid child. “I know that. And you know that. And Ben, he knows that too. But no one else knows that. Sure, I can do some fancy tricks, but so can a whole _fuckload_ of people. The people who don’t believe will think it’s all smoke and wires no matter what I do, and the ones who _do_ believe are just as likely to buy the sales pitch of the _next_ guy who’s figured out how to float. _We aren’t special here, Allison._ ”

And she doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“So,” Ben says, looking tired. “Let’s grab whatever we can get away with. It’s time to leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: period-typical homophobia, homophobic language/slurs, (unintentional) victim blaming.
> 
> Well, she's finally found out. Thoughts? ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: thoughts about period-typical racism, references to prostitution.

They leave the house.

It feels like leaving the only safe place in the world right now, because in a sense they are, but Klaus also knows that no place is actually ever really safe. It’s always just an illusion, and this one’s time has run out.

He’s been through this song and dance before. So, so many times.

So it’s not emotional attachment that sees his heart rate spiking and tears to gather in his eyes as they walk out the door. No, those are more due to the fact that he and his (black and mute, mustn’t forget) sister are now homeless in a time period that’s pretty damn unwelcoming to both of them.

"We’ll figure it out, Klaus,” Ben murmurs, as they start walking down the street. “We can live off that stuff for a while, look for options.”

Klaus unconsciously touches his pocket again and nods shallowly. He snagged a few items on his way out - expensive, but small and easily missed. With luck, the Waters won’t even notice they’re missing. After all, Klaus is pretty skilled at this particular kind of theft. Most of his teenage drug haze was funded by learning just which pretentious little trinkets dear old Daddy wouldn’t miss.

He’ll only get a fraction of their value at a pawn store, of course, but it should still be enough to last them - a couple of days, at least. Maybe a week if they stretch it. So long as they don’t get beaten to death for ‘disturbing the peace (by existing)’ before then, naturally.

They probably won’t have to spend any money on clothes, at least. Dallas in the middle of summer (and winter, to be honest, which is currently very great news for them) is not a time when you need to layer. They’re actually currently wearing what they wore when they first met, three weeks ago. How nostalgic.

Klaus cuts a glance over to Allison. She isn’t looking at him, though. Hasn’t since their little discussion in his bedroom, to be honest. He wishes he was surprised.

Part of him wants to shout at her, yell that he did it to _protect her_ from her absolutely _idiotic_ decisions, but the larger part of him is just….tired. And guilty. And still feeling the phantom sensations of hands all over him, weight pressing down on him, touches that are _wrongwrongwrong_ and a voice that _isn’t Dave’s_ and -

He just can’t deal with Allison’s scorn on top of that. He can’t.

So they keep walking in silence, even Ben. The road is sparsely populated, which Klaus probably should have thought of when he accepted the Waters’ initial offer. It’s going to take at least forty minutes to get back into the city proper. The sun is high in the sky, beating down on them, and Klaus knows even the meager cargo they’re carrying will rapidly drag them down like lead.

Well. He’s walked worse. At least they’re not barefoot.

**********

Ben comes back from scouting just in time to meet them as they come into the downtown area. Klaus looks at him attentively.

“Found a place,” Ben says briefly. “Come on,”

Klaus follows him, and Allison trails after them without comment. Klaus originally found that relieving, but now he’s wondering why she’s staying quiet for so long. It’s making him a little antsy, to be honest.

But there’s no time to waste on that when they’re on their way to their new home, so Klaus does his best to put that out of his mind. He has debatable success - that is, until they come to the place Ben found.

It’s obvious why no one else has claimed it, because the space underneath the bridge _stinks_ of urine. Klaus wrinkles his nose when he smells it, and Allison bends over gagging.

“What?” Ben says, looking between them. “What’s - oh. How bad is it?”

“A bit worse than Luther’s old socks, but not _quite_ as bad as my own,” Klaus says, waving a hand as if he can sweep away the whole miasma. He can’t, as it turns out. Superpowers, ha, what a ripoff.

Ben’s eyebrows raise. “Should I find you guys gas masks, then?”

“Har de har,” Klaus says. He looks around the place and sighs. “It’s fine, we can stay here for a night.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a poke on his arm. He turns around and sees Allison giving him an ‘are you out of your fucking MIND?’ look. She gestures semi-hysterically around the space under the bridge, then goes back to miserably holding her nose.

“Well….” Klaus says, looking around. “It stinks - literally! - but, you know, beggars can’t be choosers.” He pauses. “And we are, now. Beggars.”

Allison flinches and goes a shade paler, but stops arguing. Great. That’s one problem down. Just nine hundred and ninety-eight left to go.

They lay their extra few articles of clothing down on the ground, and Klaus surveys the area appraisingly. The asphalt of the road under the bridge is cracked and worn, which is good because it indicates there isn’t much traffic and they have a less likely chance of being bothered by the police. However, the bridge itself seems to have a significant amount of traffic, and the rumbles cause miniature earthquakes every time a car drives over them. Klaus can sleep through that no problem, but Allison has likely never had so many conflicting unpleasant stimuli in a place where she’s trying to sleep. She’ll be cranky tomorrow, no question.

No hope for it now, though. The sun is broiling, and Klaus doesn’t want to risk one of them passing out. They’ll have to shelter here for the rest of the day and night, and hope the temperature is more forgiving tomorrow (although since they’re in Dallas in July, he’s not holding out much hope).

Klaus taps his teeth and frowns. “We’ll need water,” he announces, glancing at Ben.

Who doesn’t look happy. “Bottled water isn’t really a thing yet, Klaus,” Ben says. “You’ll have to rely on fountains and - I don’t know, a canteen?”

Klaus freezes. “Fuck. Really?” At Allison’s questioning look, he repeats Ben’s words, and adds a few of his own. Mostly impolite ones. He then turns back to Ben and says, “So that’s bad. But manageable, though. Probably. Any other stones you’d like to throw in our path?”

Ben thinks it over. “Well, I didn’t hang back, so I don’t know for _certain_ that the Waters didn’t call the cops on you….”

Klaus groans, long and loud, and thunks his head back against the bridge’s support. “Oh, well then.”

“Yeah,” Ben sighs.

Klaus rubs at the bridge of his nose again, then looks over to where Allison is sitting. “You’ve been quiet. Anything to add?”

She looks away and shrugs a little.

“Aw come on,” Klaus wheedles. “It’s hours before dark, and we can’t leave without completing our case of heatstroke. Oh, by the way,” he adds to Ben, “could you scout around for a fountain? I’m a wee bit parched.” Then, back to Allison, “We might as well pass the time somehow, and Hangman is just _so_ boring.”

“You only say that because you lose every time,” Ben says.

Klaus shushes him, and shoos him away to actually be _useful._ Ugh, it’s like being dead turns the sass and impertinence up to eleven. Although maybe Klaus should be kinder, because it’s not like poor Ben has any _other_ qualities of substance.

And besides, Klaus could totally clean house at Hangman now that his brain isn’t doped up on chemicals 24/7. He’s totally going to challenge Ben to a tournament one of these days and absolutely _crush_ his wiseass of a brother.

“So?” Klaus says, turning his attention back to Allison once Ben leaves. “Anything to say?”

She purses her lips, and takes a deep breath. Lets it out. Then she scoots closer and starts tapping on his arm.

It takes Klaus a few seconds to recognize the Morse code. It’s been a _long_ time since they learned it as kids, okay. But he can still follow along, after he asks her to slow down a titch. Apparently you never do forget some things.

His musings are interrupted when he finally processes what she’s tapping out.

I-M S-O-R-R-Y

He looks at her in surprise. “What,” he says.

She taps it out again.

“Uh,” Klaus says. “Wait. You - why?”

Allison looks blank, but maybe a touch confused as well. F-O-R M-A-K-I-N-G T-H-I-N-G-S D-I-F-F-I-C-U-L-T, she taps out.

“....Oh,” Klaus says, blinking. “Uh. Okay. Apology accepted?”

Now Allison is actually looking a little upset, which is also unexpected and frankly confusing. She shakes her head firmly.

“Uh,” Klaus says.

I W-A-S C-H-I-L-D-I-S-H A-N-D S-T-U-P-I-D, she says. M-A-D-E Y-O-U H-A-V-E T-O D-O T-H-A-T T-O C-L-E-A-N U-P A-F-T-E-R M-E. I-M S-O S-O-R-R-Y.

“....I mean,” Klaus says, after he detangles that and thinks it over. “You’re in good company? _Everyone_ in this family does that, if you haven’t noticed. Actually, I’ve done it more than most, it’s about time karma got me back.”

For some reason, Allison looks _absolutely appalled_ at that.

N-O, she says, practically jabbing it into his arm. Y-O-U D-I-D-N-T D-E-S-E-R-V-E T-H-A-T.

“Who has time to waste on debating what people ‘deserve,’” Klaus says airily. “The point is, we were both stupid and there’s no use dwelling. Because now we have to focus on surviving.”

Allison tries to poke him again, but he moves away and frowns at her.

“I’m losing feeling in my arm,” he whines. “Take a stab at the wall or something, I’m not a human notepad.” He glances down at his palms. “Uh, not _your_ human notepad.”

He halfway hopes that the prospect of touching the concrete covered in dubious stains will deter Allison from speaking entirely - why did he encourage this again? - but after a brief grimace Allison starts tapping and pressing away.

Y-O-U S-H-O-U-L-D H-A-V-E T-O-L-D M-E R-E-A-L-I-T-Y O-F S-I-T-U-A-T-I-O-N, she painstakingly taps out. B-U-T I S-H-O-U-L-D-V-E B-E-E-N M-O-R-E C-A-R-E-F-U-L T-O S-T-A-R-T W-I-T-H. I-T N-E-V-E-R S-H-O-U-L-D-V-E C-O-M-E T-O Y-O-U S-L-E-E-P-I-N-G W-I-T-H H-I-M T-O P-R-O-T-E-C-T U-S.

That takes a truly agonizing amount of time to convey, but at the end of it Klaus shifts uncomfortably and only half of it is from how his ass is almost asleep.

“I said I accept your apology,” Klaus says, looking down at the ground. “And it’s not like I’ve never slept with anyone for a place to stay before, Allison, come on.”

She doesn’t respond, and he risks a glance up at her. She looks - pained, and guilty, and pretty much entirely un-Allison-like. He sighs and looks away.

After another couple minutes, there comes a renewed tapping. It’s hesitant, but Allison slowly spells out W-H-Y D-I-D-N-T Y-O-U T-E-L-L M-E?

“Didn’t want to,” Klaus says, bringing up his knees to his chest and draping his arms over them. He keeps looking away from her, but relents after another few heartbeats and expounds, “I was scared. About - what you’d think.”

Allison doesn’t reply to that. But, after a handful of seconds, she shuffles forward and hugs him.

….Oh.

Klaus hugs her back, and they sit like that until Ben returns with news of a fountain. Klaus is the one to go collect from it (because apparently even the _water fountains_ are segregated in this fucking time), and brings back enough to last them through the rest of the day.

Which they spend mostly setting up their space underneath the bridge, and then camping out there because even if it stinks, it’s still shaded from the unforgiving sun. Klaus breathes a sigh of relief when the stupid fireball slips down over the horizon.

“Well!” he chirps, laying down on his raggedy pallet (as in, literally made from rags and only safe to lie on thanks to being overlaid by his jacket). “At least we got kicked out after lunch today. Sorry about the lack of dinner, but tomorrow I can show you how to look around for the classier dumpsters. Those aren’t segregated, at least!”

It’s a frankly _abysmal_ attempt at lightening the mood, and sure enough Ben rolls his eyes. Allison tries to smile at him, bless her heart, but he can see how much the words hurt her, how the cold hard reality of their situation is kicking her in the gut once again.

God-fucking-dammit. This is the exact thing he was trying to _avoid._ Klaus looks away as Allison curls up on her own pathetic excuse for a bed, and tries to keep his breathing steady.

“It’s alright, Klaus,” Ben says quietly. “We’ll be okay.”

Klaus gives him a flat stare.

“We _will,_ ” Ben insists. “It’s going to be hard, yeah. But we can do this. You know how, and you’re sober now. All that effort you put into chasing drugs? Now you can put it toward keeping Allison safe.”

That - is a good point. Klaus bites his lip, and nods slightly. Right. He just - he needs to take this one day at a time. He _can’t_ start panicking over everything that can go wrong, because that would definitely get them both killed. Even though oh so very many things can go wrong now.

But. For now, he needs to sleep. Regular sleep actually helps when you’re feeling like shit, who would have guessed.

Klaus lies down on his jacket and tries to get comfortable. The jacket isn’t exactly made to be slept on, but that description can be applied to a _wide_ variety of things that Klaus has, in fact, slept on.

He tries not to remember that the jacket was a gift from Daphne. It’s one of the few things he took to the Waters house, and the only one of them he took when he left today. It was actually his favorite jacket, half because it really does flatter him and half because it was the first gift Daphne gave to him. Hell, it’s one of the very few gifts Klaus has gotten, ever.

He can’t forgive Daphne for what she thinks about Allison. He just can’t. But - he can remember her kindness towards him, that she gave to him when he really needed it, and he can’t bear any actual ill-will towards her. He hopes she has a good long rest of her life, far away from both of them.

The jacket crinkles a bit as Klaus shifts again, and he frowns. Did he have something in the pockets?

When he looks, it turns out he does. It’s a piece of paper, a flyer, and he opens it up to see -

“Oh,” he murmurs. Then he remembers himself and glances over at Allison, but she’s asleep already. Well, that’s nice. Klaus looks back at the flyer as Ben ambles over.

“What’s that?” Ben asks, peering at the paper. “‘Society of Justice for Colored Citizens’? Where’d you get that?”

“The night Allison arrived,” Klaus says, keeping his voice low. “She - got chased. Ran into me. So we ran together and ended up in this salon….”

Klaus gives Ben a quick rundown of the incident as he worries at the edge of the flyer. He knows he’s frowning, and he should really stop because that does _terrible_ things to his skin, but he can’t help it.

“Huh,” Ben says at the end of the story. He’s frowning at the flyer as well, a thoughtful look in his eye. “You know….they sound friendly. It might be worth it to swing by there tomorrow and see if they’ll help.”

Klaus graduates to chewing on his thumbnail. “I don’t know,” he says doubtfully. “It’s one thing to do what they did. That was a one-off. But showing up and asking for charity….”

Ben grimaces, because he knows as well as Klaus does that people don’t just help out homeless people like that. However, he says, “You don’t have to ask if you can squat in their back room. Just - I don’t know, see if they know any programs or shelters or stuff. If there’s anyone offering work around the neighborhood. Hell, if they have any just-expired food they want to get rid of. At least they won’t spit in Allison’s face for being black.”

Klaus nods slowly. “...Yeah. That….yeah. That sounds good. We’ll do that.”

“Good,” Ben says, the line of his shoulders relaxing. “Now get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Benny-boy,” Klaus mumbles as he snuggles back down on his jacket and lets his eyes drift closed.

Maybe going to the salon has some promise after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find out what 'SJCC' actually stands for so I made up this name. If anyone knows the canon name please tell me?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings at end.

Ben stands behind Klaus and Allison as they nervously loiter outside the salon. They’re trying to play it cool, but Klaus is getting a number of looks from the mostly-black pedestrians around them.

Peering through the windows, there aren’t that many people inside this early in the morning. That’s probably going to change as the day wears on, so it’s Ben’s opinion that they should go in sooner than later.

Naturally, Klaus isn’t listening to him.

“Of course I’m listening to you, Ben, how dare you slander me like that!” Klaus says. “I just don’t think we should go in yet. Being interrupted doesn’t put people in a charitable mood, you know.”

“What, you think we should wait until they’re about to close?” Ben says, rolling his eyes. Then he notices Klaus is looking thoughtful. “No, Klaus. You already did your errands for today, if you two spend the rest of the entire day sitting around underneath that bridge you’re going to murder each other.”

Klaus pouts at him. “You don’t know that.”

“I really do,” Ben says flatly. He sighs. “Just ask Allison what she thinks.”

Klaus glances at Allison, who’s looking at the salon with well-hidden trepidation, and summarizes his and Ben’s argument. Allison soaks that in, and eventually purses her lips. She taps out N-O-W on Klaus’ shoulder, and squares her own.

“Two against one,” Ben says smugly.

_“Ugh,”_ Klaus slumps. “ _Tyrants._ Fine, let’s do this.”

Ben relaxes a little bit as they open the door. Not much, though, because now they have to do the actually difficult part.

The salon falls silent as they walk in, customers and stylists alike staring at them - well, Klaus. Ben knows better than to think Klaus doesn’t notice, but he certainly acts like he doesn’t. Instead, he beams and waves at everybody.

“Hi!” he says cheerily. “Terribly sorry to bother you, but is Odessa around?”

Everyone looks _much_ warier at that, and Ben tenses. That is, until one of the stylists blinks and peers at them.

“Wait,” she says. “You were those two that got chased in here, few weeks back.”

“Aw, you remembered us!” Klaus says, putting a hand over his heart. “Hear that, Allison, we’re _memorable._ ”

Allison rolls her eyes.

The women around the shop relax a little, and recognition lights up in a couple of the other stylists’ eyes. One of the women pipes up with, “Odessa’s in back, I’ll go get her.”

“You have my eternal gratitude,” Klaus says, bowing. The woman blinks at him, nonplussed, and heads off to the back room.

“I know this is like asking you to not breathe, but don’t flirt with them,” Ben says. “We want them to like us.”

Since he’s still being watched by the entire salon, Klaus can’t respond beyond a brief mild glare. Allison notices it, and rolls her eyes again before nudging him.

“I didn’t say anything!” Klaus says indignantly. “Honestly, this is _entirely uncalled-for,_ you and Ben are both ganging up on me and that’s very rude of you, you know, I was just -”

Allison puts her hand over his mouth just as the woman returns with Odessa. Both of them blink at the sight.

Klaus crosses his arms and sulks at Allison. She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head pointedly, looking between Odessa and Klaus. He sighs behind her hand, and Ben knows what’s going to happen a few seconds before it does thanks to that little sliver of mischief in Klaus’ eyes.

Sure enough, Allison’s face suddenly looks surprised, and then disgusted. She pulls her hand back quickly and wipes it on her pants. Klaus snickers, and it’s Ben’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Really,” he says.

Klaus shoots him a quick look that essentially says _‘well, she should have seen that coming,’_ and honestly Ben can’t actually disagree with that. It’s still childish even for Klaus, though.

“Uh,” Odessa says, and then Ben’s idiot siblings remember they have an audience. “Hi there. Allison and - Klaus, right?”

“Exactly right!” Klaus says brightly. Allison, with her now thoroughly wiped-off hand, waves. “Might we speak to you for a moment, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Sure,” Odessa says after a heartbeat. “Come over here.” Then, to the rest of the salon, “Back to work, everyone.”

The four of them retreat to the back half of the shop as the salon returns to a low buzz of chatter. Ben can see more than a few people glancing at the group, but they’re probably far away enough that the conversation won’t carry.

Odessa pulls out a couple chairs for Allison and Klaus, and Klaus shoots Ben an apologetic look that there isn’t one for him. Ben waves him off. It’s sweet that Klaus thinks of things like that, but this is a little more important than feeling included in breakfast.

“Alright, so you two need help?” Odessa says.

There’s a pause. Klaus and Allison glance at each other.

“....Why do you think we need help?” Klaus says slowly.

“Well, that’s what I offered last time you were here,” Odessa says, raising an eyebrow. “And that was a few weeks ago, so if you wanted to pay a social call you would’ve done so earlier. Plus, you’re a white man and a black woman - siblings, yeah, but still, that’s a pairing that isn’t really looked kindly on. So I assume you got into some trouble?” She pauses. “And does it have anything to do with the way you smell?”

“Hey!” Klaus says. “We smell a _lot_ better than we did this morning, right, Allison?”

Allison nods emphatically. Under other circumstances, Ben suspects Allison would absolutely hate smelling strongly of coconut, but this is not normal circumstances. One of Klaus’ errands from earlier (as in the crack of dawn, when the temperature was nice and cool _and_ there were an almost nonexistent number of lowlifes hanging around) was shoplifting a can of air freshener and using it on both of them. Apparently it doesn’t _completely_ mask the smell of urine, but it’s leagues better than before.

Odessa raises her other eyebrow.

“Okay, yeah, we need help,” Klaus says, his shoulders slumping.

“Thought so,” Odessa says. “What kind of help?”

“I mean,” Klaus shrugs. “Any kind you can spare? Do you -” he glances at Ben, “- know any shelters or programs or sh-stuff like that? Oh, or is anyone hiring around here? We can, uh….Allison, what are our marketable skills?”

Allison bites her lip and looks strained. Ben knows the feeling. _He_ certainly can’t contribute anything to help his siblings, and Allison’s muteness sharply limits her options. As before, the burden of providing for them rests mostly on Klaus.

It’s a pretty shit realization.

“Wait,” Odessa says, straightening a little, looking between Allison and Klaus. “You don’t have a place? Or jobs?”

“Nah,” Klaus says. “I mean, that’s the way the cookie crumbles, don’t know what’s going to happen one day to the next.”

Allison looks like she _strenuously_ wants to disagree, but she stays quiet.

Odessa breathes out through her nose. “Shit.”

Klaus snorts a little. “Yeah, pretty much! Uh, I do have -” he roots around in his pocket and pulls out a few folded bills. “- almost nine dollars? So I can pay for food for a week or so, but, uh, it runs out quicker than you’d think. So if you know anyone….”

Ben sees Allison suppress a grimace at the mention of how much money they got for the trinkets Klaus stole. Which is reasonable, of course. It’s one thing to know about inflation, but it’s another thing to hear ‘nine dollars’ and imagine living on that for multiple days. Klaus had to reassure her that they actually did get a decent deal on the stuff, considering he wasn’t able to nick anything encrusted with gold or whatever.

“I….” Odessa trails off, with a thoughtful look in her eye. She looks between the two of them, the silence stretching out, and then she nods as if she’s made a decision. “You know what, I do. Me.”

“You?” Klaus says, blinking. Ben and Allison do as well.

“Mm-hm,” Odessa says, squaring her shoulders. “I have space in the back room, and there are a few odd jobs around the store you can do. Been meaning to hire another pair of hands anyways. You can arrange between yourselves who does what.”

“....Seriously?” Ben can’t help but say.

“That’s….generous of you,” Klaus says slowly. “How much would rent be?”

Odessa purses her lips and looks at him for a moment. “Four dollars a week,” she says eventually. “You’ll get a dollar an hour.”

Ben notices Allison suppress a twitch, and she glances over to Klaus. She probably wants to know if that’s fair or not. Which, well.

“.... _Very_ generous,” Klaus says, even slower this time. There’s suspicion on his face, and Ben can’t blame him. This kind of lucky break doesn’t _happen_ for them.

Noticing his suspicion, Odessa snorts. “It’s my back room, not the Ritz,” she says dryly. “You two want it or not?”

Klaus hesitates. “You’re sure you don’t want anything else?”

Allison stiffens slightly, throwing him a look. Ben breathes out, because - yeah, this would be a _lot_ more understandable if Odessa wants to sleep with Klaus. That song and dance is as familiar to Ben as his own damn name.

But Odessa just looks a little puzzled at Allison’s reaction, and shakes her head. “I’m not hurting for money, Klaus. Four dollars a week for the room and a job for a dollar an hour. That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”

Ben swallows. “Take it,” he says. Klaus glances at him, and Ben nods. “Take it, Klaus. Even if it goes sour later we’ll have time to build a safety net.”

Klaus nods after a second, and turns to Allison. “Well, whaddya say, sister dear? Shall we enter the glamorous world of high fashion?”

Allison relaxes, and nods. Ben feels himself smiling.

“Alrighty then!” Klaus looks back at Odessa. “When do we start?”

**********

“Nice work, Klaus,” Odessa says, inspecting the woman’s hair. “Layering is pretty good - you still have to work on getting an even trim, see here -”

“Oh come on,” Klaus says, frowning at it. “Obviously this is the work of a malevolent curse, I _know_ I did it right this time - Allison, back me up here, you were watching, right?”

“She has better things to do than watch you cut hair, Klaus,” Ben says, rolling his eyes. He leans forward in the empty chair and looks over his brother’s work. “Besides, _I_ was watching and you definitely cut it wrong.”

Klaus shoots him a betrayed look just as Allison gives him a gentle poke. He yelps and turns the look on her. “Oh come on,” he complains. “I get no respect, honestly!”

Allison chuckles a little, then hugs him. He freezes for a second, before hugging her back.

“Right,” Odessa says, picking up her scissors. “Come here, let’s even this out a bit. Hold still for a second, ma’am -”

Despite some residual grumbling, Klaus leans in closer to her and watches carefully. Allison picks up her broom and dustpan and continues sweeping the floor.

Ben leans back in his chair and smiles a little to himself. It’s….a really great day.

Granted, the past week has been composed of primarily great days. It’s honestly pretty mind-boggling.

It’s real, though. Odessa’s offer, despite their initial suspicions, has turned out to be exactly as described. Better, even, since Odessa caught Klaus playing around with Allison’s hair a few days ago and was impressed enough to let him try out for a job as a stylist. It was unexpected, and Klaus definitely gets more than a few surprised or wary or even shocked looks from the customers, but so far he’s taken to it like a duck to water. Finally, his incessant chatter is good for something - he can put even the most skittish customer at ease, and usually has them forgetting his skin color a third of the way into their cut. His technical skills have room for improvement, but Odessa has confirmed that she’ll be hiring him as soon as another girl formally quits for some family reason.

The back room is fairly small, but it’s large enough for a couple bedrolls, and Klaus has slept in much, much worse places. Allison probably hasn’t, not counting under the bridge, but the experience has apparently disinclined to make her complain about their current accommodations. Ben has eavesdropped on Odessa enough to be pretty damn certain that she’s not planning to - hike the rent, or extort Klaus into sleeping with her, or underpay them, or any of a dozen ways she could make Klaus and Allison’s lives miserable.

Which, speaking of misery, Klaus and Allison are actually making progress towards detangling their absolute _mess_ of a relationship now. It took Ben literally ordering them to sit down and talk it out, and apparently he _also_ has to join in on their improvised and erratic family therapy sessions (which he would like to register as unnecessary, because clearly he’s the only sane one here, but if it gets his siblings talking he _guesses_ he can tolerate it), but so far things are….healing. It’s not all magically cleared up yet, of course, it’s likely going to take months at _least_ until that happens, but. They’re better than they were. Limping along the road to actual communication. For people bearing the name of Hargreeves, that’s honestly a fucking miracle.

It’s - really, it’s pretty much perfect. And Ben is wary of perfect things in general, but even if it does all fall apart he’s pretty sure it won’t be because of malice on Klaus or Allison or Odessa’s part. He doesn’t know if it’ll last - or, to be more realistic, _how long_ it’ll last, because surely it won’t be forever - but things are stable and well for now, and that’s really all he could ever want.

The customer’s hair is trimmed evenly, and she leaves with a thanks and a modest tip. And that was the last customer of the day, so Allison and Klaus help out with clearing up. Ben watches lazily from his chair, periodically checking at the fading glow of sunset outside.

“We'll want to get going soon,” he tells Klaus, who flaps a hand at him in an _‘I know, Ben,’_ way.

Ben rolls his eyes.

The salon is closed up pretty soon, although it’s dark out by then. Ben eyes the streets outside, and glances over at Klaus. “You could go tomorrow morning,” he says.

Klaus shakes his head firmly. He’s almost vibrating by now, periodically looking over to where Allison is just finishing up with putting the cleaning supplies away. When she’s down, he bounces up to her and takes her arm and says, sing-song, “I have a surprise for you~!”

“Oh?” Allison says. It’s raspy, of course, and she definitely won’t be up to saying more complex things for quite a while, but Ben’s heart warms at the word anyway.

“Yes!” Klaus says, bouncing a little. He tugs her towards the door. “Come on, come on, I’ll show you. Odessa, we’ll be back within the hour, ciao!”

Odessa gives Klaus a dubious look, but sighs and waves a hand. “Alright.”

Allison raises an eyebrow as they venture out onto the street. Ben falls in beside her.

Klaus catches Allison’s look and waves a finger in her face. “No spoilers!” he says, bouncing even more.

Ben rolls his eyes again, but - he can understand Klaus’ enthusiasm. It _is_ a pretty great surprise.

They walk for about ten minutes - Klaus told him that it seems further when you’re running for your life. But soon enough Allison stiffens in realization when she notices their surroundings, and not long after they arrive at the alley where they all dropped down.

“So I was thinking,” Klaus says, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking down the alley. “That, well, it was _total_ luck that I found you that night. And we probably won’t have that kind of luck again. So we need to check this place often for our siblings, but, like, they’re our siblings. They aren’t going to stay put and be quiet as a matter of course. _So…._ ”

He leads Allison further into the alley, and makes a presenting flourish with his hands. Allison looks confused for a moment, before her eyes lock and she sucks in a sharp breath.

Ben smiles, and looks at the wall of the alley himself. Above the dumpster, in large and very visible spray-paint, it says:

1 2 ~~3 4~~ 5 ~~6~~ 7 HERE  
WAIT HERE

“I’m hoping they’ll listen,” Klaus says, looking at it with a critical eye. “None of us except Luther are good at, y’know, following directions. And we’ll have to try and check as often as possible. But - at least they’ll know they weren’t the only ones to make it.”

Ben bites his lip at the expression that flickers across Klaus’ face when he says that, because - yeah. However difficult it became when Allison crashed into their life here, the sixteen months before that….weren’t great. Not when they thought….

But no one else will have to think that. None of them.

Ben isn’t surprised when Allison throws her arms around Klaus. He staggers back, and hugs her more out of reflex than anything. “Oh, uh - thanks, wow, it’s not that big a deal, just common sense, you know -”

“Yeah,” Ben agrees. “But neither of us thought of it. You did. So make me solid enough to hug you already, dumbass.”

Klaus laughs a little, startled. “Well, okay then, Mister Bossy.”

Ben joins in on the hug, and smiles at the spray paint on the alley wall. He feels….he’s not sure, but he thinks what he’s feeling might be hope.

Yeah. This really is all he could ever want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: homelessness, food insecurity, that _lovely_ racism again, suspicion of sexual extortion.
> 
> No, they did not notice Elliot's camera equipment up there on the roof. Their one singular communal braincell was just too exhaused from coming up with the graffiti idea, the poor thing.
> 
> Well! Thank you ever so much for reading this story, folks. I will in fact begin posting the next story in this series on the 14th, because I want to give you all time to marinate in this happy ending before diving into the next angstfest.
> 
> (But, to whet your appetites: Raymond! :D)


End file.
